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 Kenya and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pharoah Sanders to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
The Divine Comedy,
Gang of Four,
Alphaville,
Hashim,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marine Girls,
Basic Channel,
Popol Vuh,
Bang On A Can,
Flash Fearless,
Slick Rick,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Janne Schatter,
Jacques Brel,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nils Olav,
Alton Ellis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Panda Bear,
OOIOO,
Oblivians,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Normal,
Lyres,
Scrapy,
Jawbox,
Eli Mardock,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sam Rivers,
Sun Ra,
The Cure,
Bronski Beat,
The Saints,
Nick Fraelich,
Soft Cell,
T. Rex,
Boredoms,
Scion,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Invisible,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Minnie Riperton,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Funkadelic,
Tom Boy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Todd Terry,
Subhumans,
John Coltrane,
Infiniti,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Josef K,
Nik Kershaw,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Grandmaster Flash,
Qualms,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.