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 Bolivia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Blancmange to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
The Smoke,
Camouflage,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nils Olav,
Supertramp,
Gichy Dan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
B.T. Express,
Thompson Twins,
Joe Finger,
Khruangbin,
Rakim,
Procol Harum,
Al Stewart,
The Seeds,
Faust,
The New Christs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fad Gadget,
La Düsseldorf,
Y Pants,
Derrick Morgan,
The Star Department,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Accadde A,
Neil Young,
8 Eyed Spy,
Essential Logic,
Dennis Brown,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kerrie Biddell,
June Days,
Maurizio,
Bobby Sherman,
Soulsonic Force,
Kaleidoscope,
Mantronix,
LL Cool J,
the Soft Cell,
Sound Behaviour,
Fluxion,
Livin' Joy,
Tears for Fears,
10cc,
Glenn Branca,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Crime,
Sarah Menescal,
Faraquet,
Rod Modell,
Alphaville,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Iggy Pop,
the Human League,
Ossler,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pole,
Ohio Players,
Pierre Henry,
Moss Icon,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.