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 Czech Republic and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Matthew Halsall to the grunge 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
These Immortal Souls,
The Electric Prunes,
Television,
10cc,
Mo-Dettes,
The Invisible,
Pantaleimon,
Mantronix,
Slave,
Ronnie Foster,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Evens,
The Offenders,
Roxy Music,
Inner City,
Sonny Sharrock,
Icehouse,
The Remains,
Grandmaster Flash,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Excepter,
Cheater Slicks,
The Moleskins,
Aaron Thompson,
Au Pairs,
Jawbox,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Chris & Cosey,
The Cure,
Blake Baxter,
Quantec,
Byron Stingily,
John Foxx,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Royal Trux,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tubeway Army,
Harpers Bizarre,
Yaz,
Bad Manners,
Marine Girls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Piero Umiliani,
Sparks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jacob Miller,
the Human League,
Terry Callier,
Lindisfarne,
Fluxion,
The Gun Club,
Joe Smooth,
the Swans,
Clear Light,
Ornette Coleman,
Matthew Bourne,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.