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 Kuwait and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Dead C to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arthur Verocai record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brand Nubian,
Rapeman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dark Day,
T. Rex,
Ultra Naté,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Human League,
Sandy B,
Popol Vuh,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Steve Hackett,
Jacques Brel,
The Slackers,
Roxy Music,
DJ Style,
Liliput,
Black Moon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Robert Hood,
The Fortunes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ohio Players,
Black Bananas,
Mission of Burma,
Terrestrial Tones,
Johnny Clarke,
The Residents,
Donald Byrd,
Sight & Sound,
Robert Görl,
Godley & Creme,
the Human League,
Freddie Wadling,
Animal Collective,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Hardrive,
Soul II Soul,
Howard Jones,
The Doors,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Monochrome Set,
Angry Samoans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Magma,
Banda Bassotti,
Urselle,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wasted Youth,
Eric B and Rakim,
T.S.O.L.,
Wolf Eyes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fatback Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rites of Spring,
Sarah Menescal,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.