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 Liberia and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 808 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 Roxy Music to the rock 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
the Normal,
New Order,
The Angels of Light,
Essential Logic,
This Heat,
Graham Central Station,
Little Man,
DJ Style,
Gabor Szabo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Absolute Body Control,
Franke,
Wally Richardson,
Theoretical Girls,
Intrusion,
Freddie Wadling,
Kas Product,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Seeds,
Circle Jerks,
Bobby Byrd,
Lebanon Hanover,
Faraquet,
EPMD,
The Shadows of Knight,
Boogie Down Productions,
Young Marble Giants,
The Martian,
Dave Gahan,
Roxy Music,
10cc,
Saccharine Trust,
Sandy B,
Grauzone,
the Sonics,
John Coltrane,
Marine Girls,
D'Angelo,
The Misunderstood,
Grey Daturas,
Clear Light,
Gang of Four,
Jawbox,
Wolf Eyes,
Procol Harum,
48th St. Collective,
Pere Ubu,
Dennis Brown,
Sun Ra,
Pantytec,
Whodini,
China Crisis,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Dead C,
Angry Samoans,
Radiopuhelimet,
Barbara Tucker,
Harmonia,
Symarip,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.