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 Oman and from Shanghai.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ 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 The Divine Comedy to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Max Romeo,
The Barracudas,
Joe Smooth,
Alice Coltrane,
Parry Music,
This Heat,
Sight & Sound,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Donald Byrd,
Das Ding,
Albert Ayler,
Erykah Badu,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scan 7,
Section 25,
The Dirtbombs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gichy Dan,
Al Stewart,
Piero Umiliani,
Schoolly D,
Agent Orange,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric Copeland,
Angry Samoans,
Wally Richardson,
The Cure,
Connie Case,
Groovy Waters,
June Days,
Delta 5,
Ronnie Foster,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lalann,
The Mojo Men,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Interpol,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ohio Players,
Main Source,
Bizarre Inc.,
June of 44,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bluetip,
the Human League,
Prince Buster,
Brass Construction,
The Fire Engines,
Stereo Dub,
Ornette Coleman,
Little Man,
Peter & Gordon,
Tubeway Army,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jandek,
Lou Christie,
Dual Sessions,
Eden Ahbez,
The Beau Brummels,
The Gun Club,
Metal Thangz,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.