Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from France and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Cymande to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
These Immortal Souls,
Kerrie Biddell,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Searchers,
Barry Ungar,
Porter Ricks,
Spoonie Gee,
The Birthday Party,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lungfish,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cure,
F. McDonald,
Soulsonic Force,
The Mummies,
Easy Going,
Johnny Osbourne,
Infiniti,
Khruangbin,
Gabor Szabo,
John Coltrane,
Henry Cow,
Tubeway Army,
Michelle Simonal,
Tim Buckley,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Icehouse,
The Index,
Minor Threat,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sällskapet,
Rufus Thomas,
Gang Green,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Black Dice,
Ossler,
Radio Birdman,
Dark Day,
DNA,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
ABBA,
Youth Brigade,
Donny Hathaway,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Byron Stingily,
Davy DMX,
Roxette,
David McCallum,
Accadde A,
Matthew Bourne,
Lou Reed,
Black Bananas,
Minny Pops,
Lower 48,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Boz Scaggs,
Sugar Minott,
Rotary Connection,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.