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 Finland and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gong 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Detroit Cobras,
H. Thieme,
Dual Sessions,
the Swans,
Bootsy Collins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Matthew Bourne,
Harry Pussy,
Howard Jones,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Henry Cow,
Flash Fearless,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mission of Burma,
Barrington Levy,
June Days,
Tomorrow,
Infiniti,
The Neon Judgement,
The Monochrome Set,
Agitation Free,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Quando Quango,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ornette Coleman,
The Zeros,
Clear Light,
Crispian St. Peters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Zero Boys,
The Invisible,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
K-Klass,
Lucky Dragons,
the Germs,
Aural Exciters,
New Order,
Jawbox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sound,
Alton Ellis,
Main Source,
The Selecter,
Letta Mbulu,
The Real Kids,
The Busters,
Black Flag,
Wire,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Reagan Youth,
Lindisfarne,
Gang Gang Dance,
Angry Samoans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Grey Daturas,
Nico,
Minutemen,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.