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 Bhutan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Darondo to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Khruangbin,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Names,
Marine Girls,
Barclay James Harvest,
Nils Olav,
Shuggie Otis,
Bob Dylan,
Maurizio,
Gil Scott Heron,
KRS-One,
Jesper Dahlback,
Minny Pops,
Drexciya,
Harmonia,
Smog,
Tomorrow,
Scrapy,
Sound Behaviour,
Mad Mike,
Zapp,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joe Finger,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Spandau Ballet,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Remains,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Chrome,
Dead Boys,
The Saints,
Gang Gang Dance,
AZ,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Trojans,
Erasure,
Jeff Lynne,
The Associates,
Crooked Eye,
Monolake,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cluster,
Donald Byrd,
Brothers Johnson,
Cybotron,
Gastr Del Sol,
Camberwell Now,
Half Japanese,
The Slackers,
The Grass Roots,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gabor Szabo,
Darondo,
Deakin,
Ultravox,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Angry Samoans,
K-Klass,
CMW,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.