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 China and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Isaac Hayes. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Althea and Donna,
Fluxion,
Masters at Work,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ponytail,
Slick Rick,
Glenn Branca,
Fatback Band,
Sex Pistols,
The Beau Brummels,
Soul Sonic Force,
ABBA,
Rotary Connection,
Aloha Tigers,
the Association,
Terrestrial Tones,
T.S.O.L.,
Moebius,
Bush Tetras,
Cluster,
Throbbing Gristle,
Slave,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
World's Most,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bronski Beat,
Oblivians,
Tears for Fears,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Suicide,
Pulsallama,
Young Marble Giants,
Charles Mingus,
Swell Maps,
The United States of America,
Schoolly D,
Buzzcocks,
Mr. Review,
Cal Tjader,
D'Angelo,
Essential Logic,
The Buckinghams,
Royal Trux,
Interpol,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Kinks,
The Evens,
Simply Red,
Joyce Sims,
the Slits,
Gabor Szabo,
Guru Guru,
Spoonie Gee,
Porter Ricks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Suburban Knight,
Man Parrish,
Quantec,
The Walker Brothers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.