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 Uzbekistan and from Lagos.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 theremin 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 Ohio Players to the disco 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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Black Pus,
OOIOO,
Television,
Ten City,
Warsaw,
Darondo,
the Bar-Kays,
Vladislav Delay,
Erasure,
The Toasters,
In Retrospect,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fugs,
The Sonics,
Cymande,
R.M.O.,
Siglo XX,
Josef K,
Boredoms,
Babytalk,
Popol Vuh,
Toni Rubio,
Sex Pistols,
The Neon Judgement,
Supertramp,
Bootsy Collins,
Kayak,
Sugar Minott,
Roxette,
Schoolly D,
The Victims,
The Pretty Things,
John Cale,
Marcia Griffiths,
These Immortal Souls,
Matthew Bourne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eric Copeland,
The Dead C,
Bush Tetras,
New York Dolls,
Spoonie Gee,
Rod Modell,
Intrusion,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Don Cherry,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Underground Resistance,
Audionom,
Wire,
Marmalade,
Al Stewart,
Niagra,
Iggy Pop,
Jerry's Kids,
Minny Pops,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Eric B and Rakim,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.