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 Comoros and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cecil Taylor to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bizarre Inc.. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Rosa Yemen,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Funkadelic,
Warsaw,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pantaleimon,
Peter & Gordon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Con Funk Shun,
Urselle,
Faraquet,
Quantec,
Ice-T,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Whodini,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The United States of America,
Stockholm Monsters,
Minor Threat,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Gap Band,
Tres Demented,
Talk Talk,
Popol Vuh,
Flipper,
Sexual Harrassment,
F. McDonald,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Dennis Brown,
John Lydon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Durutti Column,
Boogie Down Productions,
Judy Mowatt,
The Monks,
Cameo,
Donny Hathaway,
June of 44,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
L. Decosne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Doobie Brothers,
Magma,
Mission of Burma,
Royal Trux,
The Slits,
Kas Product,
Rod Modell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Franke,
Todd Rundgren,
Susan Cadogan,
Hoover,
The Dave Clark Five,
Television Personalities,
The Techniques,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sun Ra,
Silicon Teens,
The Blackbyrds,
Pere Ubu,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.