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 Zambia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Prince Buster to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
FM Einheit,
Harry Pussy,
Arthur Verocai,
Soulsonic Force,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Slits,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Agitation Free,
Intrusion,
Livin' Joy,
Morten Harket,
PIL,
Reagan Youth,
New York Dolls,
The Leaves,
The American Breed,
Sister Nancy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crash Course in Science,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Blues Magoos,
Royal Trux,
Hasil Adkins,
Average White Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Magazine,
Marmalade,
The Martian,
Danielle Patucci,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Scan 7,
Black Pus,
Public Enemy,
Darondo,
Aaron Thompson,
Unwound,
Joe Finger,
Grandmaster Flash,
Archie Shepp,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Red Krayola,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Sonics,
Ponytail,
the Germs,
Quadrant,
T. Rex,
Ultravox,
Throbbing Gristle,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hoover,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sandy B,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Bananas,
The Residents,
Surgeon,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.