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 Micronesia and from Portland.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Parry Music to the electroclash 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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists 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 snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Smoke,
Scratch Acid,
Fatback Band,
Funkadelic,
Bootsy Collins,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Wake,
The Dirtbombs,
Absolute Body Control,
Boz Scaggs,
Joyce Sims,
The Fortunes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rites of Spring,
Motorama,
Moby Grape,
Barrington Levy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Byron Stingily,
Harry Pussy,
The Move,
Mr. Review,
Morten Harket,
Groovy Waters,
Sex Pistols,
Letta Mbulu,
The Music Machine,
The Five Americans,
Warsaw,
Minny Pops,
The Monks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Whodini,
The Doobie Brothers,
Idris Muhammad,
Monolake,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Zeros,
The American Breed,
Mary Jane Girls,
Deepchord,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Main Source,
The Leaves,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Human League,
Roxette,
Robert Wyatt,
Sandy B,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jeff Lynne,
The Slackers,
Soulsonic Force,
Wolf Eyes,
Bang On A Can,
Tears for Fears,
Zapp,
Lou Christie,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.