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 Malaysia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Con Funk Shun to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hardrive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Yaz,
Spoonie Gee,
Unwound,
Max Romeo,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Byron Stingily,
Sister Nancy,
Minutemen,
Pharoah Sanders,
Goldenarms,
Harry Pussy,
Talk Talk,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bill Wells,
Delta 5,
Ice-T,
Yellowson,
The J.B.'s,
Blancmange,
Soulsonic Force,
Aural Exciters,
Cheater Slicks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Soul Sonic Force,
New Order,
June of 44,
Ten City,
Prince Buster,
The Motions,
Mo-Dettes,
John Coltrane,
Harpers Bizarre,
Connie Case,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tres Demented,
FM Einheit,
The Vogues,
Peter and Kerry,
Sandy B,
Pierre Henry,
Man Parrish,
Black Moon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minnie Riperton,
Minny Pops,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mars,
The Skatalites,
Idris Muhammad,
Henry Cow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roxy Music,
The Invisible,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Human League,
Metal Thangz,
Jeff Mills,
Soul II Soul,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.