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 Cameroon and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Motorama to the rap 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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Cybotron,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Lydon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Soft Machine,
B.T. Express,
T.S.O.L.,
Tomorrow,
Monolake,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Association,
FM Einheit,
Clear Light,
Reagan Youth,
Gerry Rafferty,
Al Stewart,
Tommy Roe,
Sugar Minott,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Faust,
Lou Reed,
The Human League,
Junior Murvin,
Malaria!,
Bang On A Can,
Minutemen,
Lou Christie,
Mark Hollis,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Cure,
Jacques Brel,
Procol Harum,
Dorothy Ashby,
Howard Jones,
Mars,
Robert Wyatt,
Robert Görl,
Nas,
Todd Terry,
Leonard Cohen,
Section 25,
Sonic Youth,
Gang of Four,
Deakin,
Mad Mike,
The Velvet Underground,
The Divine Comedy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Vainqueur,
Saccharine Trust,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eric B and Rakim,
MDC,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sound Behaviour,
Vladislav Delay,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.