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 Ivory Coast and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Hashim to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
T.S.O.L.,
Amon Düül II,
Liliput,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rufus Thomas,
The Black Dice,
the Sonics,
The Kinks,
Reagan Youth,
Soul Sonic Force,
MDC,
The Buckinghams,
Eric B and Rakim,
Surgeon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Residents,
Roy Ayers,
Danielle Patucci,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rapeman,
Terrestrial Tones,
U.S. Maple,
The Cowsills,
Bobby Byrd,
Visage,
MC5,
Y Pants,
Darondo,
Alice Coltrane,
The Index,
The Sound,
The Mummies,
The Birthday Party,
Slick Rick,
Main Source,
Ludus,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Last Poets,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Fugs,
Talk Talk,
Lakeside,
The Motions,
The Fire Engines,
Aloha Tigers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultravox,
Joensuu 1685,
Robert Wyatt,
Symarip,
Ten City,
Scan 7,
Eurythmics,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Howard Jones,
the Human League,
Lower 48,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mantronix,
The Five Americans,
Erasure,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.