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 Guinea-Bissau and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and New York.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cybotron to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Names record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
cv313,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eve St. Jones,
Iggy Pop,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pierre Henry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
X-Ray Spex,
Blossom Toes,
The Slackers,
Roy Ayers,
Byron Stingily,
Rites of Spring,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Derrick May,
Fat Boys,
The New Christs,
The Move,
Reagan Youth,
the Slits,
Section 25,
Harry Pussy,
Peter & Gordon,
Echospace,
Minny Pops,
The Monks,
Blancmange,
The Music Machine,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Busters,
Ponytail,
Slave,
Bronski Beat,
Pantaleimon,
Siglo XX,
Brand Nubian,
Dual Sessions,
The Residents,
The Happenings,
The Fugs,
DJ Style,
Donny Hathaway,
CMW,
Mark Hollis,
Rufus Thomas,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Beau Brummels,
Cybotron,
Flipper,
DNA,
Nirvana,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stereo Dub,
Tears for Fears,
Pylon,
the Normal,
Television Personalities,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.