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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Eve St. Jones to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Ronan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Electric Prunes,
LL Cool J,
Barbara Tucker,
Hoover,
Amon Düül II,
Juan Atkins,
Deepchord,
Mo-Dettes,
The Blues Magoos,
Barrington Levy,
The Toasters,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Section 25,
Sight & Sound,
The Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
CMW,
B.T. Express,
Easy Going,
Boogie Down Productions,
Audionom,
FM Einheit,
Jeru the Damaja,
Nation of Ulysses,
Spandau Ballet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pantytec,
Jerry's Kids,
New Order,
Terry Callier,
Intrusion,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cluster,
Crime,
Piero Umiliani,
Dead Boys,
The Last Poets,
Essential Logic,
Smog,
Traffic Nightmare,
Skarface,
Crash Course in Science,
The Neon Judgement,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Moss Icon,
Absolute Body Control,
Donny Hathaway,
T. Rex,
Robert Wyatt,
Lou Christie,
Hot Snakes,
Eden Ahbez,
The Saints,
the Slits,
Camouflage,
New York Dolls,
Television Personalities, Television Personalities, Television Personalities, Television Personalities.
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.