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 Saudi Arabia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Names to the electroclash 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
David Bowie,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bauhaus,
Scratch Acid,
Radiopuhelimet,
Whodini,
Tim Buckley,
Sun City Girls,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Residents,
Sällskapet,
10cc,
Sugar Minott,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Sound,
Harry Pussy,
Sister Nancy,
Junior Murvin,
The Fugs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Divine Comedy,
Angry Samoans,
Scrapy,
Roy Ayers,
Judy Mowatt,
the Normal,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Germs,
Fad Gadget,
Kurtis Blow,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Surgeon,
Mark Hollis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dave Gahan,
Soul II Soul,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lindisfarne,
Howard Jones,
The Litter,
Yusef Lateef,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Cymande,
Janne Schatter,
Patti Smith,
Reuben Wilson,
The Dead C,
David Axelrod,
Cybotron,
Neil Young,
Inner City,
Mission of Burma,
Cal Tjader,
The Index,
Pulsallama,
The Cowsills,
Excepter,
The Skatalites,
Silicon Teens,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.