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 Botswana and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Stockholm.
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 rhodes 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 Bobby Byrd to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Count Five,
Skaos,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Five Americans,
Moebius,
Buzzcocks,
Siglo XX,
Roxy Music,
Gang Gang Dance,
Symarip,
Lalo Schifrin,
Cybotron,
Bluetip,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Soft Cell,
Organ,
Rekid,
B.T. Express,
Arcadia,
the Slits,
The New Christs,
Yusef Lateef,
The Remains,
The Dirtbombs,
Max Romeo,
Thee Headcoats,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Isaac Hayes,
John Holt,
Derrick Morgan,
Silicon Teens,
Bronski Beat,
Mary Jane Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Avey Tare,
The Pretty Things,
Morten Harket,
Rosa Yemen,
Bizarre Inc.,
John Coltrane,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
F. McDonald,
Marshall Jefferson,
Alice Coltrane,
Jeff Lynne,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Andrew Hill,
Goldenarms,
Hasil Adkins,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Interpol,
10cc,
Sonic Youth,
The Fuzztones,
Erykah Badu,
the Normal,
Ludus,
Nik Kershaw,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.