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 Sudan and from Houston.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Juan Atkins to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Todd Terry,
The Fortunes,
Tropical Tobacco,
The J.B.'s,
cv313,
The Litter,
Livin' Joy,
Gang of Four,
Minor Threat,
Cybotron,
Silicon Teens,
Magma,
Colin Newman,
Henry Cow,
John Coltrane,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lyres,
Sparks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Man Eating Sloth,
Black Flag,
Easy Going,
Bobby Sherman,
Monks,
Harpers Bizarre,
Television Personalities,
Sex Pistols,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bluetip,
Yusef Lateef,
Pussy Galore,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Birthday Party,
June of 44,
Ultravox,
Dawn Penn,
Jeff Mills,
Minny Pops,
Duran Duran,
The Cowsills,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Zeros,
Juan Atkins,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Dead C,
Lou Christie,
The Monochrome Set,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Red Krayola,
Agent Orange,
DNA,
Stiv Bators,
Pharoah Sanders,
Smog,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Yellowson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Interpol,
The Golliwogs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
FM Einheit, FM Einheit, FM Einheit, FM Einheit.
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.