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 Gambia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 rhodes 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 Harry Pussy to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Kinks,
Fat Boys,
Bauhaus,
Funkadelic,
Jeff Mills,
Smog,
Boz Scaggs,
Fear,
Dark Day,
The Residents,
Quadrant,
Laurel Aitken,
Vladislav Delay,
Black Bananas,
China Crisis,
ABBA,
Alton Ellis,
R.M.O.,
Suburban Knight,
The Gladiators,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Saints,
Lower 48,
Joey Negro,
Yusef Lateef,
The J.B.'s,
Wolf Eyes,
Icehouse,
Main Source,
Fatback Band,
Wings,
Cheater Slicks,
New Order,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sun Ra,
Warren Ellis,
Max Romeo,
Eric Dolphy,
Wire,
Buzzcocks,
Tommy Roe,
Dawn Penn,
Althea and Donna,
Wally Richardson,
Kaleidoscope,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Thee Headcoats,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hoover,
The Dead C,
Rosa Yemen,
Ituana,
The Sonics,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sandy B,
DJ Sneak,
Country Teasers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Matthew Halsall,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.