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 Azerbaijan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 New Order to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shuggie Otis,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Smiths,
The Smoke,
Pantytec,
Joey Negro,
Technova,
These Immortal Souls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jeff Mills,
Fear,
E-Dancer,
Avey Tare,
John Cale,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lightning Bolt,
John Coltrane,
Man Eating Sloth,
Radio Birdman,
The Pop Group,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Livin' Joy,
The Remains,
Ornette Coleman,
Michelle Simonal,
Moby Grape,
The Misunderstood,
Crispian St. Peters,
Make Up,
Quantec,
Eden Ahbez,
X-101,
the Soft Cell,
Ice-T,
Supertramp,
A Certain Ratio,
Clear Light,
The Red Krayola,
Quando Quango,
The Modern Lovers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minor Threat,
June of 44,
The Happenings,
New York Dolls,
Erasure,
Bootsy Collins,
Don Cherry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
F. McDonald,
Sex Pistols,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jerry's Kids,
Rosa Yemen,
The Invisible,
The Fugs,
Rapeman,
Gichy Dan,
Fela Kuti,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.