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 Somalia and from Paris.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 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 Marine Girls to the crunk 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Rotary Connection,
Carl Craig,
Brick,
The Walker Brothers,
PIL,
Dead Boys,
Intrusion,
Suicide,
The Fire Engines,
Kool Moe Dee,
Au Pairs,
Monks,
The Leaves,
Japan,
the Bar-Kays,
Unwound,
Youth Brigade,
Freddie Wadling,
World's Most,
Man Eating Sloth,
Boredoms,
Robert Görl,
Niagra,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Blackbyrds,
Flipper,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joensuu 1685,
Ohio Players,
Thompson Twins,
The Toasters,
Supertramp,
Agent Orange,
Eurythmics,
kango's stein massive,
Smog,
The Move,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lou Christie,
Magazine,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Index,
The Mummies,
Barrington Levy,
a-ha,
The Black Dice,
Livin' Joy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Subhumans,
Skaos,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jeff Mills,
D'Angelo,
Ronnie Foster,
Pussy Galore,
Marmalade,
Soft Cell,
Severed Heads,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.