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 Iran and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Real Kids to the electroclash 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Inner City,
Eddi Front,
Unwound,
Thompson Twins,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Move,
Marc Almond,
ABBA,
Royal Trux,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Hasil Adkins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Walker Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Popol Vuh,
CMW,
Magazine,
Skarface,
Blake Baxter,
The Standells,
The Blues Magoos,
Harpers Bizarre,
Terry Callier,
Rufus Thomas,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Cure,
Mantronix,
Lucky Dragons,
Sun Ra,
Livin' Joy,
Animal Collective,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Velvet Underground,
Theoretical Girls,
Juan Atkins,
Peter & Gordon,
Fat Boys,
Letta Mbulu,
Howard Jones,
Sister Nancy,
Bob Dylan,
David McCallum,
Quadrant,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Funky Four + One,
Young Marble Giants,
The Mummies,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rakim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Magma,
Vainqueur,
Eric Dolphy,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Sherman,
Joensuu 1685,
E-Dancer,
Neil Young,
Crooked Eye,
The Invisible,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago.
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.