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 Croatia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro 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 Wire to the crunk 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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Piero Umiliani,
Mandrill,
Subhumans,
Blancmange,
Magazine,
Pylon,
the Sonics,
B.T. Express,
Eurythmics,
Siglo XX,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Lydon,
The Selecter,
Malaria!,
The Move,
10cc,
The Alarm Clocks,
Metal Thangz,
Terry Callier,
Frankie Knuckles,
MC5,
Bang On A Can,
X-Ray Spex,
Davy DMX,
Guru Guru,
Deadbeat,
Au Pairs,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sixth Finger,
Aaron Thompson,
Skarface,
the Fania All-Stars,
Tom Boy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rod Modell,
Black Moon,
Shuggie Otis,
Stockholm Monsters,
This Heat,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mo-Dettes,
Model 500,
The Doors,
Stetsasonic,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crispian St. Peters,
Spandau Ballet,
The Electric Prunes,
The Dave Clark Five,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Fugs,
ABC,
Absolute Body Control,
Soul Sonic Force,
Howard Jones,
Camouflage,
The Moleskins,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Animal Collective,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Durutti Column,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.