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 Morocco and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Todd Terry to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Alphaville,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Vainqueur,
Jerry's Kids,
Ralphi Rosario,
Model 500,
The Moleskins,
Nas,
Barbara Tucker,
Soul II Soul,
Whodini,
Amon Düül II,
kango's stein massive,
The Fire Engines,
John Holt,
New Order,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jesper Dahlback,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gerry Rafferty,
Interpol,
Toni Rubio,
Lebanon Hanover,
Todd Terry,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Negative Approach,
James White and The Blacks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Con Funk Shun,
the Association,
Ice-T,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Crooked Eye,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gang Starr,
Lalann,
Morten Harket,
Gabor Szabo,
Magma,
Eric Dolphy,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Surgeon,
Steve Hackett,
Youth Brigade,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Slave,
Harry Pussy,
New Age Steppers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Soft Cell,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
These Immortal Souls,
The Cramps,
Technova,
Mark Hollis,
Derrick May,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.