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 Moldova and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Neil Young to the electroclash 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Invisible 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 clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Main Source,
The Sonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
Camouflage,
Massinfluence,
Mandrill,
John Coltrane,
the Bar-Kays,
ABBA,
Urselle,
Japan,
Fatback Band,
ABC,
Mars,
Dawn Penn,
Mad Mike,
The Dirtbombs,
Wasted Youth,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Qualms,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sun Ra,
The Cure,
The Selecter,
Cymande,
Don Cherry,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marvin Gaye,
Jeff Lynne,
Audionom,
Nation of Ulysses,
Visage,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Monks,
A Certain Ratio,
The Happenings,
H. Thieme,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lungfish,
Black Moon,
Brand Nubian,
UT,
The Grass Roots,
the Germs,
Adolescents,
Liliput,
Davy DMX,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tres Demented,
Grauzone,
Fifty Foot Hose,
U.S. Maple,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rufus Thomas,
The Human League,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.