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 Belarus and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the jazz 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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Flesh Eaters,
Make Up,
Intrusion,
The Star Department,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Symarip,
The Smoke,
The Fire Engines,
Sonny Sharrock,
E-Dancer,
Franke,
Yaz,
The Selecter,
Angry Samoans,
Subhumans,
The Smiths,
The Count Five,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Human League,
a-ha,
Fatback Band,
Malaria!,
The Wake,
The Raincoats,
Minor Threat,
Rod Modell,
June Days,
X-102,
Jeff Mills,
Agitation Free,
The Monochrome Set,
Neu!,
Can,
Wolf Eyes,
Kurtis Blow,
Jesper Dahlback,
K-Klass,
James White and The Blacks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Glenn Branca,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bronski Beat,
Moebius,
The Gladiators,
Bluetip,
Sandy B,
Cecil Taylor,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Toasters,
Darondo,
Sonic Youth,
Spoonie Gee,
Todd Terry,
kango's stein massive,
Connie Case,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Surgeon,
Y Pants,
Severed Heads,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.