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 Papua New Guinea and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ronnie Foster to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
Shoche,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gichy Dan,
Nas,
Rufus Thomas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Flag,
DJ Style,
Pulsallama,
Gang Green,
R.M.O.,
Thee Headcoats,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nirvana,
In Retrospect,
Pet Shop Boys,
Man Parrish,
Pharoah Sanders,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Motorama,
The Mummies,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mr. Review,
Lindisfarne,
Nation of Ulysses,
Hasil Adkins,
Guru Guru,
The Toasters,
June of 44,
Black Bananas,
Audionom,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Intrusion,
Kaleidoscope,
Babytalk,
Liliput,
Alison Limerick,
The Barracudas,
Hardrive,
Lyres,
Patti Smith,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Angels of Light,
Toni Rubio,
Wire,
Aloha Tigers,
Danielle Patucci,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Agent Orange,
Qualms,
Boz Scaggs,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.