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 Andorra and from Columbus.
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 Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Ronnie Foster,
Althea and Donna,
Big Daddy Kane,
Deakin,
Liliput,
Mo-Dettes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
New Order,
Television Personalities,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Nils Olav,
Slick Rick,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Grey Daturas,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Minny Pops,
Lungfish,
The Blues Magoos,
Popol Vuh,
Half Japanese,
Severed Heads,
Shoche,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gang Starr,
Buzzcocks,
Jawbox,
Glambeats Corp.,
Stereo Dub,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultimate Spinach,
Black Sheep,
Schoolly D,
Grauzone,
the Soft Cell,
The Human League,
Rekid,
The Barracudas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Anakelly,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Velvet Underground,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cheater Slicks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kenny Larkin,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sixth Finger,
Howard Jones,
Sun City Girls,
Basic Channel,
David McCallum,
Delta 5,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rapeman,
Lalann,
Tom Boy,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.