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 Liberia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Robert Wyatt to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux 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 mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gichy Dan,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Skaos,
The Kinks,
48th St. Collective,
Deepchord,
Kenny Larkin,
Laurel Aitken,
The Grass Roots,
The Buckinghams,
Surgeon,
Moss Icon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Wolf Eyes,
Cameo,
Fat Boys,
Half Japanese,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Howard Jones,
The Residents,
The Evens,
Piero Umiliani,
Clear Light,
Stockholm Monsters,
Brothers Johnson,
Y Pants,
Interpol,
Electric Prunes,
Heaven 17,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
FM Einheit,
Nation of Ulysses,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
F. McDonald,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mad Mike,
Sex Pistols,
Blossom Toes,
cv313,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Public Enemy,
Excepter,
The Fall,
Bill Near,
Colin Newman,
Tres Demented,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fire Engines,
Mandrill,
Arthur Verocai,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Vainqueur,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Seeds,
Isaac Hayes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.