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 Latvia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Modern Lovers to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Peter & Gordon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Germs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalo Schifrin,
David Bowie,
R.M.O.,
Pussy Galore,
John Cale,
Delta 5,
Joyce Sims,
Schoolly D,
Arab on Radar,
PIL,
Camouflage,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gang Starr,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Alphaville,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Zero Boys,
Sonic Youth,
The Black Dice,
Procol Harum,
Marmalade,
Gong,
Byron Stingily,
Stetsasonic,
MDC,
The Dave Clark Five,
Peter & Gordon,
Marine Girls,
The Names,
Eden Ahbez,
The Doors,
Can,
Donald Byrd,
Sam Rivers,
Prince Buster,
The Pretty Things,
The Index,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
MC5,
a-ha,
The Cramps,
Subhumans,
Zapp,
Goldenarms,
Monks,
Tom Boy,
Malaria!,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Radiopuhelimet,
Dead Boys,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sarah Menescal,
Bootsy Collins,
Joe Smooth,
Neil Young,
The Walker Brothers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ituana,
Eurythmics,
Fugazi,
the Slits,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.