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 Bhutan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Section 25 to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Nils Olav,
Niagra,
Franke,
Steve Hackett,
Loose Ends,
Scott Walker,
Kayak,
Half Japanese,
The Pop Group,
Groovy Waters,
Dual Sessions,
Ronnie Foster,
Thompson Twins,
Cluster,
Robert Görl,
Althea and Donna,
Harry Pussy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Underground Resistance,
The American Breed,
Suburban Knight,
Bobby Sherman,
Cymande,
Marvin Gaye,
the Sonics,
Juan Atkins,
The Techniques,
Lou Reed,
The Shadows of Knight,
E-Dancer,
The Dead C,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lalann,
The Selecter,
Minny Pops,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ludus,
Au Pairs,
Infiniti,
The Invisible,
Rakim,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Johnny Clarke,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fear,
U.S. Maple,
Absolute Body Control,
Yusef Lateef,
Eric Dolphy,
The Cramps,
June Days,
Ornette Coleman,
Jeff Lynne,
Ten City,
Unwound,
Josef K,
Livin' Joy,
Faust,
Jacob Miller,
Stiv Bators,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.