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 Zambia and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Mark Hollis to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boredoms,
Porter Ricks,
Marmalade,
Hardrive,
The Evens,
La Düsseldorf,
Nas,
Animal Collective,
Gang Green,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
L. Decosne,
Kaleidoscope,
The Barracudas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Flag,
David Bowie,
Saccharine Trust,
Tears for Fears,
Barbara Tucker,
Siglo XX,
Technova,
Hasil Adkins,
Wasted Youth,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Con Funk Shun,
The Count Five,
Drexciya,
DJ Sneak,
Cybotron,
the Slits,
Mark Hollis,
Tubeway Army,
Scrapy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Peter and Kerry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Blossom Toes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Severed Heads,
X-Ray Spex,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Motions,
Negative Approach,
Bobby Sherman,
Sixth Finger,
Aswad,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
This Heat,
Ronan,
The Gap Band,
Shuggie Otis,
Junior Murvin,
Brick,
Agent Orange,
Toni Rubio,
Masters at Work,
Graham Central Station,
The Modern Lovers,
Slick Rick,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.