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 Yemen and from Jakarta.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Buzzcocks to the disco 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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Todd Terry,
Neu!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Danielle Patucci,
Soulsonic Force,
Lalann,
The Skatalites,
Albert Ayler,
Swans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Stereo Dub,
Depeche Mode,
Maurizio,
Metal Thangz,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rekid,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sound Behaviour,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Alton Ellis,
The Gories,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Birthday Party,
Negative Approach,
Fatback Band,
The Seeds,
Johnny Osbourne,
E-Dancer,
8 Eyed Spy,
Make Up,
F. McDonald,
Boz Scaggs,
Bush Tetras,
Rites of Spring,
Black Pus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Germs,
Aloha Tigers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Nik Kershaw,
Heaven 17,
Arthur Verocai,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Half Japanese,
Reagan Youth,
Banda Bassotti,
Loose Ends,
Alphaville,
Spandau Ballet,
The Dirtbombs,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Index,
KRS-One,
Outsiders,
Spoonie Gee,
Grey Daturas,
The Dave Clark Five,
Minnie Riperton,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.