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 Qatar and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
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 Jimmy McGriff to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
John Cale,
Rufus Thomas,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Newcleus,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Human League,
The Monks,
Henry Cow,
The Black Dice,
Minor Threat,
The Dirtbombs,
Alphaville,
Nas,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rites of Spring,
Throbbing Gristle,
Trumans Water,
Johnny Clarke,
June Days,
OOIOO,
Bluetip,
Colin Newman,
Jandek,
The Last Poets,
Joey Negro,
Mr. Review,
Black Bananas,
The Young Rascals,
Tears for Fears,
The Pretty Things,
John Lydon,
The Velvet Underground,
The Mojo Men,
Deadbeat,
Eurythmics,
Mad Mike,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gong,
The Real Kids,
La Düsseldorf,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soulsonic Force,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scientists,
Basic Channel,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soft Cell,
Con Funk Shun,
Lebanon Hanover,
Davy DMX,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jimmy McGriff,
Morten Harket,
Joyce Sims,
Lindisfarne,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.