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 Marshall Islands and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Grass Roots to the jazz 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor 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?
Rakim,
Ice-T,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Letta Mbulu,
Rekid,
Traffic Nightmare,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Zero Boys,
Suburban Knight,
The Moody Blues,
B.T. Express,
Nation of Ulysses,
Funky Four + One,
The Fire Engines,
Gichy Dan,
Television Personalities,
Eddi Front,
The Cure,
Bobby Womack,
John Foxx,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Alarm Clocks,
Johnny Clarke,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Scan 7,
China Crisis,
Laurel Aitken,
Duran Duran,
Mantronix,
Mars,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sex Pistols,
The Gap Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nas,
Neil Young,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Associates,
David Bowie,
Skaos,
Yazoo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Aswad,
Nik Kershaw,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Supertramp,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kerrie Biddell,
Radio Birdman,
Tomorrow,
Bill Wells,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Index,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bad Manners,
Terry Callier,
Derrick May,
Don Cherry,
The Doors,
Ronan,
Roger Hodgson,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.