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 India and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Frankie Knuckles to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
Robert Hood,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Max Romeo,
Ralphi Rosario,
B.T. Express,
The Modern Lovers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Grauzone,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
John Cale,
The Mummies,
Boz Scaggs,
Todd Terry,
Half Japanese,
Erasure,
Mad Mike,
Laurel Aitken,
Crime,
Deepchord,
Clear Light,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Can,
Scott Walker,
Idris Muhammad,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joey Negro,
Cluster,
DJ Style,
Jacques Brel,
Matthew Halsall,
Adolescents,
Chris & Cosey,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Popol Vuh,
The Litter,
The Slits,
Dennis Brown,
Ituana,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eden Ahbez,
Eric Copeland,
kango's stein massive,
Excepter,
The Dead C,
Pere Ubu,
Gerry Rafferty,
Q65,
FM Einheit,
Wasted Youth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Malaria!,
Hasil Adkins,
Little Man,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.