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 Fiji and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Cameo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Darondo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Archie Shepp,
Terry Callier,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Loose Ends,
Sex Pistols,
the Normal,
Lindisfarne,
Warsaw,
Tommy Roe,
The Durutti Column,
Ronnie Foster,
Rites of Spring,
The Searchers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Monks,
The Seeds,
Joe Finger,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Hood,
E-Dancer,
Royal Trux,
These Immortal Souls,
Dennis Brown,
Dave Gahan,
Dead Boys,
Vainqueur,
Aswad,
David Axelrod,
Eden Ahbez,
Prince Buster,
Jesper Dahlback,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fuzztones,
Fad Gadget,
H. Thieme,
The Blackbyrds,
Lebanon Hanover,
Al Stewart,
The Happenings,
Scratch Acid,
Duran Duran,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Motorama,
Hashim,
Albert Ayler,
Skarface,
The Selecter,
Brothers Johnson,
The Sound,
the Sonics,
Main Source,
Ludus,
Frankie Knuckles,
Circle Jerks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tubeway Army,
Hoover,
Todd Terry,
Visage,
The Index,
The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight.
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.