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 Indonesia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 rhodes 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 Darondo to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
The Selecter,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mo-Dettes,
The Moody Blues,
Harmonia,
Royal Trux,
New York Dolls,
Grey Daturas,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bang On A Can,
the Human League,
Lou Reed,
The Stooges,
The Walker Brothers,
Young Marble Giants,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Dirtbombs,
China Crisis,
Half Japanese,
Letta Mbulu,
Brothers Johnson,
Kaleidoscope,
Man Eating Sloth,
Big Daddy Kane,
Alton Ellis,
The Velvet Underground,
Flamin' Groovies,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
DNA,
Dorothy Ashby,
Accadde A,
Electric Prunes,
The Trojans,
The Buckinghams,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Matthew Halsall,
Kayak,
Tropical Tobacco,
Index,
Ralphi Rosario,
One Last Wish,
Main Source,
Jimmy McGriff,
The American Breed,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Minutemen,
Unrelated Segments,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Index,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Funky Four + One,
Soul Sonic Force,
Animal Collective,
The Busters,
The Smiths,
The Associates,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Fall,
Cymande,
Wings,
The Modern Lovers,
Isaac Hayes,
Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan.
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.