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 Syria and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 arpeggiator 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 The Remains to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tubeway Army,
Peter and Kerry,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Gregory Isaacs,
Public Enemy,
The Cure,
The Birthday Party,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bush Tetras,
Buzzcocks,
Rapeman,
KRS-One,
Unwound,
Amazonics,
Thee Headcoats,
Popol Vuh,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Derrick May,
T. Rex,
Mad Mike,
Main Source,
Make Up,
Crooked Eye,
The Velvet Underground,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Swell Maps,
The Alarm Clocks,
Hoover,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Prince Buster,
Mr. Review,
The Black Dice,
Leonard Cohen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Skatalites,
K-Klass,
Barbara Tucker,
Judy Mowatt,
Y Pants,
Index,
The Cowsills,
Dave Gahan,
Japan,
The Stooges,
June Days,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Au Pairs,
Moebius,
Cybotron,
The Leaves,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Patti Smith,
Jesper Dahlback,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bill Wells,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.