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 Ethiopia and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Marshall Jefferson to the techno 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scott Walker,
the Fania All-Stars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pantaleimon,
Alison Limerick,
Erasure,
JFA,
The Black Dice,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Peter & Gordon,
Camouflage,
The Motions,
Thompson Twins,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gabor Szabo,
E-Dancer,
The New Christs,
Skarface,
Model 500,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lou Christie,
Nirvana,
Tim Buckley,
Rites of Spring,
Carl Craig,
X-Ray Spex,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Livin' Joy,
Audionom,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Niagra,
Pantytec,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Cale,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Throbbing Gristle,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gap Band,
Thee Headcoats,
the Human League,
This Heat,
The Associates,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Bush Tetras,
Reuben Wilson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Flamin' Groovies,
Unrelated Segments,
Duran Duran,
Hardrive,
Heaven 17,
Surgeon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ultra Naté,
Scientists,
The Techniques,
The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros.
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.