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 Taiwan and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mr. Review to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Desert Stars,
The Alarm Clocks,
Y Pants,
Inner City,
Flipper,
Ponytail,
Henry Cow,
Vainqueur,
The Buckinghams,
Tropical Tobacco,
K-Klass,
Das Ding,
Model 500,
Pussy Galore,
FM Einheit,
Delta 5,
Funky Four + One,
Connie Case,
Donald Byrd,
Todd Terry,
Gang Green,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare,
Soul Sonic Force,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Max Romeo,
Scott Walker,
The Cure,
Joyce Sims,
Eurythmics,
Pierre Henry,
The Velvet Underground,
Derrick May,
Jacob Miller,
Newcleus,
Blossom Toes,
The Grass Roots,
Lyres,
Ultra Naté,
Rakim,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Normal,
Kenny Larkin,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marcia Griffiths,
X-102,
Wire,
The Stooges,
John Coltrane,
Hardrive,
Ultravox,
Harry Pussy,
MC5,
Parry Music,
Blancmange,
Kool Moe Dee,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Easy Going,
Chris Corsano,
Black Pus,
Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth.
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.