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 South Africa and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Houston.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the electroclash 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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mars,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Terry Callier,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Index,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maleditus Sound,
Nation of Ulysses,
Hot Snakes,
Icehouse,
The Detroit Cobras,
H. Thieme,
Dark Day,
Sugar Minott,
Whodini,
Judy Mowatt,
Lou Christie,
Swell Maps,
Banda Bassotti,
Masters at Work,
The Golliwogs,
Aswad,
The Toasters,
Fluxion,
ABC,
Moebius,
Moss Icon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Saccharine Trust,
Warsaw,
Procol Harum,
Faraquet,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
Angry Samoans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ponytail,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Magma,
Lalo Schifrin,
DNA,
F. McDonald,
One Last Wish,
Stiv Bators,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Television Personalities,
Goldenarms,
10cc,
Cluster,
Fear,
Kenny Larkin,
Sonic Youth,
Quadrant,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The J.B.'s,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Essential Logic,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lightning Bolt,
Dual Sessions,
Mark Hollis,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.