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 Haiti and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 Beijing and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 clarinet 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 The Dead C to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
Chrome,
Scientists,
Inner City,
Marcia Griffiths,
Babytalk,
Lyres,
The Velvet Underground,
ABBA,
Wings,
Excepter,
The Slits,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Misunderstood,
Scion,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
Sugar Minott,
Scrapy,
Alice Coltrane,
Henry Cow,
Ice-T,
Little Man,
Toni Rubio,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Model 500,
Harry Pussy,
Chris & Cosey,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Laurel Aitken,
Soft Cell,
The Five Americans,
Bush Tetras,
Saccharine Trust,
John Holt,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wolf Eyes,
Brand Nubian,
Maleditus Sound,
These Immortal Souls,
The Dead C,
Rekid,
The Moleskins,
Sonic Youth,
Fluxion,
La Düsseldorf,
Gastr Del Sol,
Grey Daturas,
Jeru the Damaja,
Robert Wyatt,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Pretty Things,
the Soft Cell,
Pole,
New York Dolls,
Nas,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Pop Group,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ludus,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Crooked Eye,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.