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 Cameroon and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Saints to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Gang of Four,
Pantaleimon,
Tres Demented,
Piero Umiliani,
Unwound,
Excepter,
Procol Harum,
Sandy B,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Crooked Eye,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mad Mike,
Index,
Animal Collective,
Maurizio,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
New Order,
Sound Behaviour,
Ten City,
48th St. Collective,
The Birthday Party,
Ossler,
Crime,
Sonic Youth,
Q and Not U,
Arthur Verocai,
Franke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jacob Miller,
Brand Nubian,
The Black Dice,
10cc,
T. Rex,
The Music Machine,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lalann,
Carl Craig,
Derrick Morgan,
E-Dancer,
Harry Pussy,
Don Cherry,
ABBA,
Cheater Slicks,
The Barracudas,
Eve St. Jones,
Leonard Cohen,
Hardrive,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
John Lydon,
The Young Rascals,
Darondo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crash Course in Science,
Dawn Penn,
Bootsy Collins,
Minnie Riperton,
Malaria!,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.