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 Armenia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 güiro 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 Interpol to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sixth Finger,
Zero Boys,
Rapeman,
Brothers Johnson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crash Course in Science,
Panda Bear,
Tim Buckley,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Real Kids,
Neu!,
Pierre Henry,
Kayak,
The Fuzztones,
Animal Collective,
Quantec,
Joy Division,
Maleditus Sound,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Golliwogs,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Donny Hathaway,
The Alarm Clocks,
Unrelated Segments,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Section 25,
The Misunderstood,
The Wake,
ABBA,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joe Finger,
Freddie Wadling,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Minny Pops,
Faraquet,
Severed Heads,
Public Image Ltd.,
Young Marble Giants,
Fela Kuti,
David McCallum,
the Human League,
Pylon,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Martian,
The Last Poets,
Visage,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bill Near,
Fugazi,
Gang Gang Dance,
Vainqueur,
Hasil Adkins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Moon,
Gong,
Mars,
Ultimate Spinach,
June of 44,
Lou Christie,
Marvin Gaye,
Radio Birdman,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.