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 Namibia and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth 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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Foxx,
Judy Mowatt,
The Red Krayola,
Yaz,
Boredoms,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sandy B,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Hoover,
E-Dancer,
Magazine,
The Skatalites,
The Victims,
Harpers Bizarre,
Television,
Alice Coltrane,
Sarah Menescal,
cv313,
The New Christs,
Camberwell Now,
Icehouse,
The Sonics,
DJ Style,
Bill Near,
Subhumans,
The Fortunes,
Popol Vuh,
Althea and Donna,
The Fall,
Yazoo,
Bobby Womack,
Pylon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joyce Sims,
Intrusion,
Banda Bassotti,
the Human League,
Rufus Thomas,
Roger Hodgson,
Max Romeo,
Gabor Szabo,
The Knickerbockers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Marc Almond,
The Count Five,
Shuggie Otis,
Supertramp,
Surgeon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Warren Ellis,
X-Ray Spex,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Barbara Tucker,
The American Breed,
The Buckinghams,
The Wake,
Underground Resistance,
Dave Gahan,
Bluetip,
Maurizio,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.