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 Andorra and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Zeros to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Vladislav Delay,
Sarah Menescal,
Letta Mbulu,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rekid,
Masters at Work,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Essential Logic,
Angry Samoans,
Pet Shop Boys,
U.S. Maple,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Excepter,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Byrd,
John Foxx,
Gichy Dan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Faust,
Mantronix,
Mary Jane Girls,
Scratch Acid,
Camberwell Now,
Albert Ayler,
Sixth Finger,
Arthur Verocai,
Rakim,
Slave,
Symarip,
Josef K,
Shoche,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bill Near,
D'Angelo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
E-Dancer,
Model 500,
The Selecter,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Joy Division,
Robert Görl,
the Association,
CMW,
Duran Duran,
Wire,
Buzzcocks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Inner City,
the Human League,
Audionom,
Heaven 17,
Maurizio,
Shuggie Otis,
The J.B.'s,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.