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 Slovenia and from Salvador.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the crunk 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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Suicide,
Ten City,
Nation of Ulysses,
Iggy Pop,
The American Breed,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Warsaw,
Cal Tjader,
The Cowsills,
Wire,
Underground Resistance,
The Remains,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Offenders,
Crime,
The Mojo Men,
Archie Shepp,
Scan 7,
Second Layer,
The Mummies,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Birthday Party,
Intrusion,
Qualms,
Eric B and Rakim,
cv313,
Subhumans,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobby Byrd,
Youth Brigade,
June of 44,
Arab on Radar,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Hoover,
Traffic Nightmare,
Suburban Knight,
Todd Terry,
Lou Reed,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jesper Dahlback,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ultra Naté,
Khruangbin,
Brand Nubian,
The Associates,
Joe Smooth,
Rakim,
Carl Craig,
Hot Snakes,
Public Image Ltd.,
LL Cool J,
Gong,
Drive Like Jehu,
Deadbeat,
Eric Copeland,
Basic Channel,
John Coltrane,
Judy Mowatt,
Los Fastidios,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.