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 Mongolia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 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 Erasure to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
John Lydon,
Tubeway Army,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bob Dylan,
Duran Duran,
Can,
Lucky Dragons,
The Toasters,
Kayak,
Urselle,
Harry Pussy,
The Associates,
Ultravox,
Roger Hodgson,
Ponytail,
Franke,
Wasted Youth,
Massinfluence,
Simply Red,
Soul II Soul,
The Gun Club,
Flipper,
10cc,
DJ Sneak,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ludus,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ornette Coleman,
The Victims,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Moby Grape,
Silicon Teens,
Mars,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Guru Guru,
Television Personalities,
Easy Going,
Lightning Bolt,
Talk Talk,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liliput,
Pantytec,
Camouflage,
Sixth Finger,
Gabor Szabo,
Morten Harket,
Monks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
E-Dancer,
D'Angelo,
Nick Fraelich,
the Bar-Kays,
Robert Görl,
The Monks,
Brass Construction,
AZ,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.