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 Togo 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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Accra.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Gerry Rafferty to the electroclash 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
the Soft Cell,
The Beau Brummels,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Desert Stars,
The Young Rascals,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Amon Düül II,
The Divine Comedy,
Nik Kershaw,
The Busters,
the Human League,
Cybotron,
John Foxx,
Circle Jerks,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Blues Magoos,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Music Machine,
Infiniti,
Davy DMX,
Sexual Harrassment,
Subhumans,
Soft Cell,
Mary Jane Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Monochrome Set,
Soul II Soul,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eric Copeland,
Joensuu 1685,
Bronski Beat,
Public Enemy,
Quantec,
The Star Department,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Average White Band,
John Lydon,
The Neon Judgement,
U.S. Maple,
Lalo Schifrin,
Excepter,
Ornette Coleman,
Babytalk,
Jacob Miller,
Sällskapet,
CMW,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Flipper,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cymande,
Donald Byrd,
Harmonia,
JFA,
Brand Nubian,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Chris & Cosey,
Andrew Hill,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.