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 Antigua and from Cairo.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 EPMD to the crunk 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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
Terry Callier,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Sonics,
Bluetip,
Country Teasers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nils Olav,
Simply Red,
The Gories,
David Bowie,
Skaos,
Byron Stingily,
Suburban Knight,
Unrelated Segments,
Main Source,
The Searchers,
Pierre Henry,
The Doors,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
X-101,
UT,
Peter and Kerry,
Ultra Naté,
Fela Kuti,
Inner City,
The Associates,
Arthur Verocai,
Lindisfarne,
Malaria!,
Junior Murvin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flipper,
The Blues Magoos,
Monks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sonic Youth,
Siglo XX,
Bush Tetras,
Public Enemy,
Brothers Johnson,
Steve Hackett,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lungfish,
Duran Duran,
The Standells,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
L. Decosne,
Sandy B,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nation of Ulysses,
Maurizio,
Zero Boys,
The Fall,
Eric B and Rakim,
Absolute Body Control,
Isaac Hayes,
Roy Ayers,
Shuggie Otis,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Litter,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.