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 Eritrea and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 arpeggiator 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 R.M.O. to the electroclash 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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Stereo Dub,
The Beau Brummels,
The Monks,
Harry Pussy,
Connie Case,
The Cure,
Maleditus Sound,
the Bar-Kays,
Sam Rivers,
The Golliwogs,
The Offenders,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Roxette,
Bobby Byrd,
Marc Almond,
FM Einheit,
Rakim,
The Walker Brothers,
Roger Hodgson,
Los Fastidios,
Supertramp,
Morten Harket,
Hashim,
Khruangbin,
The Selecter,
Radiopuhelimet,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Grauzone,
Circle Jerks,
The Moody Blues,
Television Personalities,
Pierre Henry,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Loose Ends,
Index,
Guru Guru,
Ronan,
Monks,
Derrick May,
Television,
The New Christs,
The Gun Club,
Kenny Larkin,
Sonic Youth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Max Romeo,
Jawbox,
Japan,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eurythmics,
Tomorrow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
cv313,
Spoonie Gee,
Echospace,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.