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 Cambodia and from Edmonton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Black Moon to the grime 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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Kayak,
U.S. Maple,
Jacob Miller,
Byron Stingily,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wasted Youth,
Half Japanese,
Joyce Sims,
Graham Central Station,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ronnie Foster,
Black Flag,
Mark Hollis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Shoche,
The Kinks,
Roy Ayers,
John Lydon,
The Index,
Sun Ra,
Alison Limerick,
Bobby Byrd,
Yazoo,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Suicide,
The Cure,
Circle Jerks,
the Slits,
Massinfluence,
Rosa Yemen,
Simply Red,
Man Parrish,
The Red Krayola,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Associates,
Gabor Szabo,
Letta Mbulu,
Avey Tare,
Matthew Bourne,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Newcleus,
The Monochrome Set,
The Walker Brothers,
Goldenarms,
The Trojans,
The Mojo Men,
Tubeway Army,
Lindisfarne,
Dawn Penn,
Ten City,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Moon,
Thompson Twins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Outsiders,
Fatback Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Skarface,
Joensuu 1685,
AZ,
The Martian,
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.