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 Nicaragua and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Black Pus to the grime 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 Carl Craig. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Soul II Soul,
Public Enemy,
Moss Icon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The New Christs,
Sex Pistols,
The Standells,
the Germs,
Niagra,
Piero Umiliani,
The Invisible,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Chris & Cosey,
Nas,
Chris Corsano,
Tears for Fears,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Funkadelic,
Flash Fearless,
Arcadia,
Rapeman,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Move,
Make Up,
The Buckinghams,
T. Rex,
Glenn Branca,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quando Quango,
Quantec,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nirvana,
Skriet,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eli Mardock,
Sexual Harrassment,
Echospace,
Alton Ellis,
Neil Young,
The Alarm Clocks,
Susan Cadogan,
UT,
Gang of Four,
Chrome,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Count Five,
Matthew Bourne,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Severed Heads,
U.S. Maple,
David Bowie,
Grey Daturas,
Aaron Thompson,
T.S.O.L.,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Happenings,
D'Angelo,
Prince Buster,
FM Einheit,
Sugar Minott,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.