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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Maleditus Sound to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Graham Central Station,
The Red Krayola,
the Normal,
Fugazi,
Lightning Bolt,
Marvin Gaye,
U.S. Maple,
Procol Harum,
The Pop Group,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The J.B.'s,
the Germs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Harmonia,
Make Up,
The Mojo Men,
The Last Poets,
Agitation Free,
the Soft Cell,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Funkadelic,
Cluster,
New Order,
Banda Bassotti,
Second Layer,
Soft Cell,
Guru Guru,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pere Ubu,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rekid,
Erykah Badu,
John Holt,
Glambeats Corp.,
Index,
Robert Wyatt,
Talk Talk,
Camouflage,
James White and The Blacks,
The Invisible,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Groovy Waters,
EPMD,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Motorama,
The Star Department,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Darondo,
Japan,
Cecil Taylor,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sound Behaviour,
Cal Tjader,
Lindisfarne,
Monks,
Kas Product,
Hashim,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.