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 Cyprus and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bronski Beat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Matthew Halsall,
Radio Birdman,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Angry Samoans,
Main Source,
the Sonics,
Terry Callier,
Brass Construction,
New Age Steppers,
Hot Snakes,
Wire,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Graham Central Station,
Sällskapet,
Fad Gadget,
Dual Sessions,
A Certain Ratio,
Chris Corsano,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Crooked Eye,
Lyres,
Tommy Roe,
Cybotron,
The Last Poets,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Blackbyrds,
Lalann,
June Days,
Dawn Penn,
Howard Jones,
Reuben Wilson,
Negative Approach,
Pantytec,
Prince Buster,
Dead Boys,
JFA,
The Moleskins,
The Saints,
Charles Mingus,
Delta 5,
Warsaw,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Smiths,
Eddi Front,
The Victims,
Faraquet,
Moebius,
Popol Vuh,
Tres Demented,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Aural Exciters,
Bush Tetras,
Carl Craig,
R.M.O.,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Star Department,
Gil Scott Heron,
Connie Case,
Funkadelic,
The Durutti Column,
Banda Bassotti,
Yazoo,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.