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 Australia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the 808 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 Cluster to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
The Young Rascals,
Interpol,
Eyeless In Gaza,
B.T. Express,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Davy DMX,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
These Immortal Souls,
Marshall Jefferson,
Crime,
The Moleskins,
Fluxion,
X-102,
Ohio Players,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Doobie Brothers,
Theoretical Girls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
New Age Steppers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dark Day,
Swell Maps,
Bill Near,
Idris Muhammad,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Kinks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Eli Mardock,
LL Cool J,
Tim Buckley,
Jeff Lynne,
Minny Pops,
The Skatalites,
Drexciya,
Grandmaster Flash,
Monolake,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang Starr,
Matthew Halsall,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pere Ubu,
Livin' Joy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rosa Yemen,
Arthur Verocai,
Ornette Coleman,
Babytalk,
Slick Rick,
Popol Vuh,
Kenny Larkin,
Stereo Dub,
Boz Scaggs,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Absolute Body Control,
Colin Newman,
Buzzcocks,
Swans,
Yazoo,
Kas Product,
The Monks,
Pylon,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.