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 Dominican Republic and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
FM Einheit,
Rapeman,
Delta 5,
cv313,
Radiohead,
Scratch Acid,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Josef K,
The Stooges,
Technova,
Stockholm Monsters,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blossom Toes,
Bill Wells,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sandy B,
Ultravox,
The Star Department,
Ultra Naté,
Howard Jones,
Ronan,
Michelle Simonal,
Chris & Cosey,
Joyce Sims,
Fad Gadget,
Dawn Penn,
Qualms,
Tim Buckley,
Marc Almond,
Main Source,
Eric Copeland,
X-Ray Spex,
Radiopuhelimet,
Au Pairs,
the Association,
Organ,
Rites of Spring,
the Soft Cell,
The Happenings,
The Slackers,
Hashim,
Ornette Coleman,
These Immortal Souls,
Warren Ellis,
The Fuzztones,
Guru Guru,
Little Man,
Skriet,
Faust,
World's Most,
Joensuu 1685,
Porter Ricks,
Magma,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Trojans,
Con Funk Shun,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bauhaus,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.