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 Germany and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 synthesizer 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 R.M.O. to the techno 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul Sonic Force 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jandek,
The Selecter,
Lee Hazlewood,
Agent Orange,
Parry Music,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dark Day,
Ornette Coleman,
Piero Umiliani,
David Axelrod,
Motorama,
Al Stewart,
Moebius,
Bill Near,
Yazoo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lakeside,
Ossler,
the Soft Cell,
Banda Bassotti,
X-Ray Spex,
John Foxx,
Robert Hood,
Brothers Johnson,
Graham Central Station,
Aaron Thompson,
Eve St. Jones,
The Dave Clark Five,
June of 44,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Kinks,
Make Up,
The Star Department,
Brand Nubian,
Jeru the Damaja,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joy Division,
Black Bananas,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tim Buckley,
Reuben Wilson,
The Black Dice,
Soft Cell,
Fear,
Pussy Galore,
The Five Americans,
ABBA,
Laurel Aitken,
Faust,
New Order,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Henry Cow,
Colin Newman,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Au Pairs,
Eurythmics,
Swans,
Audionom,
Duran Duran,
Don Cherry,
Barrington Levy,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.