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 Somalia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 spring reverb 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 The Doobie Brothers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
The Raincoats,
Piero Umiliani,
Fluxion,
The Invisible,
Rakim,
June Days,
Bluetip,
Alison Limerick,
Althea and Donna,
The Moody Blues,
Skriet,
LL Cool J,
James White and The Blacks,
The Pop Group,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Grandmaster Flash,
Hashim,
Youth Brigade,
Henry Cow,
Television Personalities,
Eric Dolphy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Durutti Column,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mission of Burma,
Joe Smooth,
Shuggie Otis,
Judy Mowatt,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cymande,
The Black Dice,
Talk Talk,
Rapeman,
Zero Boys,
Jacob Miller,
Suicide,
Ohio Players,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Joey Negro,
Y Pants,
Goldenarms,
DJ Sneak,
Blancmange,
Masters at Work,
Fela Kuti,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cecil Taylor,
Organ,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gang Green,
Sandy B,
Janne Schatter,
The Blackbyrds,
Funkadelic,
Circle Jerks,
Heaven 17,
The Slits,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Motorama,
Dawn Penn,
F. McDonald,
Blake Baxter,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.