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 Cape Verde and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Wings to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 II Soul. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Organ,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Doors,
Q and Not U,
Lindisfarne,
The Smiths,
EPMD,
Tres Demented,
Sight & Sound,
Little Man,
Mandrill,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Derrick Morgan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Dave Clark Five,
Barbara Tucker,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Fire Engines,
Guru Guru,
Mary Jane Girls,
Absolute Body Control,
Chris Corsano,
Dead Boys,
Television,
Tubeway Army,
Ralphi Rosario,
Grey Daturas,
The Saints,
kango's stein massive,
Subhumans,
Amon Düül II,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Normal,
Howard Jones,
Yellowson,
The Techniques,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Modern Lovers,
The Human League,
Grauzone,
Drive Like Jehu,
Matthew Bourne,
David Axelrod,
Derrick May,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Anthony Braxton,
Anakelly,
The Knickerbockers,
Cybotron,
Ken Boothe,
the Sonics,
Simply Red,
Public Image Ltd.,
The United States of America,
Newcleus,
Das Ding,
Josef K,
Morten Harket,
June of 44,
Patti Smith,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.