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 Cairo.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 E-Dancer to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Fugazi,
Amon Düül II,
Grandmaster Flash,
Morten Harket,
Gang Green,
Hashim,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Public Enemy,
Arcadia,
Flamin' Groovies,
Index,
Avey Tare,
Kas Product,
Junior Murvin,
the Soft Cell,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Duran Duran,
Marmalade,
Harry Pussy,
U.S. Maple,
The Vogues,
The Cosmic Jokers,
MC5,
A Certain Ratio,
Johnny Clarke,
Altered Images,
Monks,
Marc Almond,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ken Boothe,
The Modern Lovers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Electric Prunes,
Sun City Girls,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Barracudas,
Matthew Halsall,
Mars,
John Lydon,
Icehouse,
Joey Negro,
The New Christs,
Graham Central Station,
Electric Prunes,
Pagans,
UT,
Andrew Hill,
Gil Scott Heron,
Absolute Body Control,
the Human League,
Livin' Joy,
Agent Orange,
Saccharine Trust,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Terry Callier,
Lou Christie,
Tears for Fears,
Lalann,
Gichy Dan,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.