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 Algeria and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 clarinet 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 Faraquet to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Magma,
Agent Orange,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Standells,
Alice Coltrane,
Jerry's Kids,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Chris & Cosey,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Jeff Lynne,
Carl Craig,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ponytail,
The Sound,
The Shadows of Knight,
Harmonia,
Moebius,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rakim,
Faust,
Piero Umiliani,
The Last Poets,
A Certain Ratio,
The Buckinghams,
Steve Hackett,
The Knickerbockers,
Bad Manners,
Gang Gang Dance,
Popol Vuh,
Eurythmics,
Alison Limerick,
The Invisible,
Model 500,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Aural Exciters,
The Names,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Roger Hodgson,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Tom Boy,
Arcadia,
June Days,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
This Heat,
Sugar Minott,
The Barracudas,
Scan 7,
Black Pus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Massinfluence,
Joy Division,
Ultimate Spinach,
Maurizio,
Siglo XX,
10cc,
Vainqueur,
London Community Gospel Choir,
a-ha,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.