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 Czech Republic and from Woodstock.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lyon.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Fatback Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Jeff Lynne,
Kayak,
The Mummies,
Average White Band,
Jacques Brel,
Visage,
Terry Callier,
Rapeman,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pussy Galore,
the Slits,
Aaron Thompson,
The Wake,
U.S. Maple,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Peter and Kerry,
Johnny Clarke,
The Walker Brothers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Janne Schatter,
Mission of Burma,
Minutemen,
The Knickerbockers,
The Martian,
The Index,
Harry Pussy,
Juan Atkins,
Yellowson,
Lower 48,
One Last Wish,
Avey Tare,
Al Stewart,
The Evens,
Sam Rivers,
Roy Ayers,
The Slits,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Agitation Free,
CMW,
Nico,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Cowsills,
Swell Maps,
The United States of America,
Bluetip,
Shuggie Otis,
The Barracudas,
Spoonie Gee,
the Sonics,
Robert Hood,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Freddie Wadling,
Yusef Lateef,
John Foxx,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fortunes,
Bob Dylan,
The Residents,
Blake Baxter,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.