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 Suriname and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Marc Almond 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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
The Wake,
Marcia Griffiths,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fear,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Roy Ayers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Hoover,
Black Moon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Hashim,
La Düsseldorf,
L. Decosne,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Slits,
Bad Manners,
June of 44,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Franke,
David Bowie,
The Vogues,
Sexual Harrassment,
Excepter,
Stiv Bators,
Delon & Dalcan,
Quando Quango,
Mr. Review,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Reuben Wilson,
Dave Gahan,
Neil Young,
Y Pants,
Black Flag,
The Red Krayola,
The Angels of Light,
Supertramp,
The Cowsills,
The Detroit Cobras,
Erasure,
Flamin' Groovies,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Skatalites,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Moebius,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Godley & Creme,
Black Sheep,
Ultra Naté,
Cluster,
Jeff Mills,
World's Most,
Camouflage,
Harry Pussy,
Malaria!,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Slits,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.