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 Lithuania and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rotary Connection to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
The Names,
Popol Vuh,
The Happenings,
Trumans Water,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dark Day,
ABBA,
T.S.O.L.,
The Divine Comedy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gong,
The Count Five,
Lebanon Hanover,
Technova,
Avey Tare,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jeru the Damaja,
KRS-One,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Todd Rundgren,
Janne Schatter,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Velvet Underground,
Cecil Taylor,
The Real Kids,
Tropical Tobacco,
Surgeon,
Joyce Sims,
The Knickerbockers,
Buzzcocks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Unwound,
Intrusion,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobby Byrd,
Crispy Ambulance,
Motorama,
Peter & Gordon,
Leonard Cohen,
Masters at Work,
Jeff Mills,
The Dead C,
Traffic Nightmare,
These Immortal Souls,
The New Christs,
Blossom Toes,
Can,
Rhythm & Sound,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Roy Ayers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Mojo Men,
David Bowie,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Glenn Branca,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.