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 Spain 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kevin Saunderson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mission of Burma,
Blossom Toes,
Marc Almond,
Faraquet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Drive Like Jehu,
Schoolly D,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Nirvana,
The Knickerbockers,
Pussy Galore,
Maurizio,
Bootsy Collins,
DJ Style,
Sixth Finger,
Kurtis Blow,
Maleditus Sound,
Desert Stars,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rapeman,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joey Negro,
KRS-One,
The Smoke,
Barbara Tucker,
Jawbox,
John Coltrane,
Lucky Dragons,
Chris & Cosey,
Aural Exciters,
Zero Boys,
Lou Christie,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ituana,
Minutemen,
Glambeats Corp.,
MC5,
Goldenarms,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Moebius,
Brass Construction,
Yellowson,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jacques Brel,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rekid,
Todd Terry,
Traffic Nightmare,
Surgeon,
Fat Boys,
Bluetip,
Sun Ra,
Sight & Sound,
Magazine,
The Victims,
Dawn Penn,
The Raincoats,
Kayak,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.