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 Paraguay and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 theremin 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 The Selecter to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Names. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Brick,
T.S.O.L.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Joy Division,
Von Mondo,
Connie Case,
The Misunderstood,
Lakeside,
Pantytec,
Kerri Chandler,
Roger Hodgson,
Lou Reed,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Crooked Eye,
Hot Snakes,
Skriet,
B.T. Express,
Arthur Verocai,
The Kinks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
China Crisis,
Lyres,
Charles Mingus,
Morten Harket,
Liliput,
The Red Krayola,
Yellowson,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Happenings,
Erykah Badu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Harmonia,
Heaven 17,
Hashim,
The Doobie Brothers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Organ,
Nico,
CMW,
Terry Callier,
Janne Schatter,
PIL,
John Lydon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Niagra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Erasure,
The Velvet Underground,
John Coltrane,
Tubeway Army,
Peter and Kerry,
Essential Logic,
Tres Demented,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Thompson Twins,
Glambeats Corp.,
Talk Talk,
Pole,
Marshall Jefferson,
June Days,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.