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 Turkmenistan and from Winnipeg.
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 Winnipeg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 synthesizer 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 Television Personalities to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Model 500,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ultravox,
The New Christs,
Marc Almond,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Index,
H. Thieme,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Todd Rundgren,
Ultra Naté,
Barrington Levy,
Banda Bassotti,
Lucky Dragons,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Porter Ricks,
Henry Cow,
The Wake,
Moss Icon,
The Slits,
Masters at Work,
The Mighty Diamonds,
B.T. Express,
Big Daddy Kane,
Youth Brigade,
Roxy Music,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fortunes,
Livin' Joy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Last Poets,
OOIOO,
John Cale,
Y Pants,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jandek,
Parry Music,
Crispy Ambulance,
Joy Division,
Tears for Fears,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Circle Jerks,
E-Dancer,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Count Five,
Kerrie Biddell,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Zapp,
Prince Buster,
Sugar Minott,
Ludus,
Dave Gahan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ponytail,
David Axelrod,
Hot Snakes,
Nirvana,
Terry Callier,
Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen.
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.