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 Korea South and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Subhumans to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rotary Connection,
A Certain Ratio,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Toni Rubio,
Eddi Front,
Kerri Chandler,
48th St. Collective,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Foxx,
Matthew Halsall,
Radio Birdman,
Ralphi Rosario,
Television Personalities,
Severed Heads,
Rekid,
Interpol,
Andrew Hill,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Audionom,
Bobby Womack,
Dual Sessions,
The Invisible,
Lakeside,
New York Dolls,
Little Man,
The Wake,
The Birthday Party,
Josef K,
Roy Ayers,
Freddie Wadling,
Pylon,
Gong,
Laurel Aitken,
Skaos,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ponytail,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Smiths,
Fad Gadget,
the Fania All-Stars,
Agent Orange,
Ken Boothe,
Liliput,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Khruangbin,
Donny Hathaway,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Spandau Ballet,
DJ Sneak,
Los Fastidios,
Pussy Galore,
Prince Buster,
Pere Ubu,
Metal Thangz,
Yusef Lateef,
The Dead C,
Warren Ellis,
Susan Cadogan,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.