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 Uganda and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Erykah Badu to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Todd Terry,
Soft Cell,
Slave,
Tommy Roe,
Steve Hackett,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Supertramp,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Can,
Arcadia,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Vladislav Delay,
Newcleus,
Tropical Tobacco,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Sherman,
Quando Quango,
Sandy B,
Oneida,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Guru Guru,
Bad Manners,
Lucky Dragons,
Toni Rubio,
Radiohead,
Boz Scaggs,
Marc Almond,
Dennis Brown,
The Beau Brummels,
B.T. Express,
Pierre Henry,
The Litter,
Negative Approach,
The Neon Judgement,
Wasted Youth,
Peter and Kerry,
The Human League,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Cramps,
Amon Düül,
Barbara Tucker,
James White and The Blacks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
This Heat,
Byron Stingily,
The Trojans,
Quadrant,
Con Funk Shun,
June Days,
Glenn Branca,
The Fire Engines,
Fugazi,
Lindisfarne,
Main Source,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Glambeats Corp.,
K-Klass,
Young Marble Giants,
Graham Central Station,
Marine Girls,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.