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 Zimbabwe and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 harpsichord 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 Inner City to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Index,
Subhumans,
Fluxion,
Young Marble Giants,
Soul II Soul,
Jerry's Kids,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalann,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
Easy Going,
The Smoke,
Visage,
Mission of Burma,
The Fall,
the Normal,
Groovy Waters,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Sound,
the Slits,
the Human League,
Idris Muhammad,
Mark Hollis,
X-Ray Spex,
Danielle Patucci,
Bronski Beat,
Arcadia,
Siglo XX,
The Blackbyrds,
Dennis Brown,
Avey Tare,
Black Pus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fear,
Radio Birdman,
Ken Boothe,
The Kinks,
The Red Krayola,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sight & Sound,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jandek,
Moebius,
X-101,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Guru Guru,
DJ Style,
Prince Buster,
London Community Gospel Choir,
T.S.O.L.,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Association,
the Swans,
Whodini,
Cybotron,
The Wake,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.