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 Chile and from Glasgow.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Traffic Nightmare to the techno 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Boredoms,
Jesper Dahlback,
Maleditus Sound,
The Knickerbockers,
Monks,
Cymande,
Saccharine Trust,
The Red Krayola,
Can,
Aswad,
The Birthday Party,
Joey Negro,
Procol Harum,
Harry Pussy,
Oneida,
Malaria!,
Brick,
Easy Going,
Scion,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Carl Craig,
Ossler,
Eric B and Rakim,
Minor Threat,
Deakin,
Howard Jones,
The Names,
Agent Orange,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Duran Duran,
Derrick May,
Ohio Players,
Davy DMX,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sarah Menescal,
Prince Buster,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Five Americans,
Television Personalities,
Franke,
Lou Reed,
Suburban Knight,
Fela Kuti,
Y Pants,
James White and The Blacks,
Mad Mike,
The Fall,
the Human League,
The Cowsills,
Surgeon,
The Victims,
Crooked Eye,
Lakeside,
Spandau Ballet,
Kurtis Blow,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nik Kershaw,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Tremeloes,
The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros.
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.