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 Uzbekistan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 guitar 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 Stockholm Monsters to the disco 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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Con Funk Shun,
Talk Talk,
Donny Hathaway,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Arab on Radar,
FM Einheit,
Tubeway Army,
Roxy Music,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ronnie Foster,
Pierre Henry,
Radiohead,
Joyce Sims,
Pulsallama,
Wally Richardson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The American Breed,
The Remains,
Lindisfarne,
The Sonics,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
David Bowie,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Accadde A,
Gregory Isaacs,
Amazonics,
T. Rex,
Kurtis Blow,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The United States of America,
Warren Ellis,
Ultimate Spinach,
EPMD,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Human League,
Technova,
Cheater Slicks,
Fad Gadget,
The Red Krayola,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crime,
Procol Harum,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Slits,
The Mummies,
Kool Moe Dee,
Harpers Bizarre,
Goldenarms,
The Martian,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pylon,
The Dead C,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bronski Beat,
Blancmange,
Ohio Players,
Lightning Bolt,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
U.S. Maple,
Charles Mingus,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.