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 Guinea-Bissau and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kas Product to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
The Last Poets,
Throbbing Gristle,
Byron Stingily,
Q and Not U,
Motorama,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Human League,
The Slits,
Tears for Fears,
Pere Ubu,
Con Funk Shun,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wings,
The Kinks,
Masters at Work,
The Neon Judgement,
Robert Görl,
Peter and Kerry,
Aaron Thompson,
The Mummies,
The Raincoats,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultravox,
ABC,
Fluxion,
Qualms,
Joe Smooth,
Cluster,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Michelle Simonal,
Public Enemy,
Reuben Wilson,
A Certain Ratio,
Royal Trux,
The Tremeloes,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Victims,
Ronnie Foster,
Jesper Dahlback,
Maurizio,
Spandau Ballet,
Erykah Badu,
Rotary Connection,
Blake Baxter,
Chris Corsano,
Talk Talk,
Graham Central Station,
Fear,
Ronan,
Monolake,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Darondo,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Morten Harket,
Joyce Sims,
Don Cherry,
R.M.O.,
Can,
Technova,
Panda Bear,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.