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 Denmark and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Main Source to the rap 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
T. Rex,
Lalann,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Durutti Column,
Vladislav Delay,
Mars,
Byron Stingily,
Fad Gadget,
The Last Poets,
Surgeon,
Los Fastidios,
The Motions,
Panda Bear,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Move,
PIL,
Au Pairs,
H. Thieme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deakin,
Godley & Creme,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Stetsasonic,
Aswad,
Television Personalities,
Altered Images,
Angry Samoans,
D'Angelo,
Gabor Szabo,
Sarah Menescal,
Depeche Mode,
Gastr Del Sol,
David Bowie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radiohead,
Dennis Brown,
Lyres,
The Names,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fela Kuti,
Tears for Fears,
Funkadelic,
David McCallum,
Grandmaster Flash,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Andrew Hill,
The Standells,
Fluxion,
Camouflage,
John Holt,
The Leaves,
The Selecter,
World's Most,
Minor Threat,
Mad Mike,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tropical Tobacco,
kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive.
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.