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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Lille.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Paris.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Rapeman to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Nik Kershaw,
Kurtis Blow,
Faraquet,
Amon Düül II,
Maleditus Sound,
Pantaleimon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Royal Trux,
Mark Hollis,
Nation of Ulysses,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Aaron Thompson,
the Bar-Kays,
Gichy Dan,
The Names,
Television Personalities,
Nirvana,
Tres Demented,
Symarip,
Connie Case,
Gabor Szabo,
Kerri Chandler,
Henry Cow,
Johnny Clarke,
Amazonics,
Magazine,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bill Wells,
Magma,
Masters at Work,
Sonic Youth,
Rufus Thomas,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
In Retrospect,
Junior Murvin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mo-Dettes,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Pretty Things,
The Music Machine,
10cc,
Roy Ayers,
Skaos,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Fortunes,
Barry Ungar,
Harry Pussy,
Anthony Braxton,
Mantronix,
The Dead C,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Leaves,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sound Behaviour,
Schoolly D,
China Crisis,
Public Image Ltd.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Anakelly,
Babytalk,
Matthew Halsall,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan.
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.