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 Fiji and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Average White Band 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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Kayak,
Warren Ellis,
The Mummies,
The Smoke,
Circle Jerks,
Radio Birdman,
Sparks,
Lyres,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Bar-Kays,
Erykah Badu,
Faraquet,
10cc,
Franke,
One Last Wish,
Faust,
Barry Ungar,
The Dead C,
Can,
X-Ray Spex,
Idris Muhammad,
The Fuzztones,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Inner City,
Brand Nubian,
Fad Gadget,
Rekid,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gong,
Blancmange,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
World's Most,
Al Stewart,
Sex Pistols,
The Blues Magoos,
the Sonics,
Fatback Band,
Mandrill,
the Slits,
Bill Wells,
Byron Stingily,
R.M.O.,
Gichy Dan,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pierre Henry,
Aloha Tigers,
Ten City,
Roxette,
Rakim,
Carl Craig,
Glambeats Corp.,
Susan Cadogan,
Hasil Adkins,
Brick,
Harmonia,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.