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 Honduras and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Litter to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Sonics,
Franke,
Bobby Byrd,
Soul Sonic Force,
Funkadelic,
Marine Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Make Up,
Saccharine Trust,
The Dirtbombs,
The Barracudas,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Monks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tropical Tobacco,
Y Pants,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Association,
Reuben Wilson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sixth Finger,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Martian,
X-Ray Spex,
Pussy Galore,
Eden Ahbez,
Alice Coltrane,
the Swans,
Crooked Eye,
Althea and Donna,
Thee Headcoats,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tres Demented,
Byron Stingily,
Swans,
Japan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Kinks,
Matthew Halsall,
Ultravox,
Banda Bassotti,
Black Pus,
Mark Hollis,
The Misunderstood,
The Black Dice,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Motorama,
Cecil Taylor,
Reagan Youth,
EPMD,
Khruangbin,
Parry Music,
Young Marble Giants,
Flash Fearless,
Alison Limerick,
Shuggie Otis,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Scratch Acid,
Sarah Menescal,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.