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 Jordan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Gastr Del Sol to the dance 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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Ohio Players,
Alphaville,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Grass Roots,
The Sisters of Mercy,
X-101,
Das Ding,
X-Ray Spex,
The Doobie Brothers,
A Certain Ratio,
Los Fastidios,
Basic Channel,
Camberwell Now,
Cluster,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ice-T,
cv313,
Roger Hodgson,
Ludus,
Thompson Twins,
Harry Pussy,
The Five Americans,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Star Department,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Guru Guru,
Jawbox,
The Pop Group,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eurythmics,
The Seeds,
UT,
Tim Buckley,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Cowsills,
Suburban Knight,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Howard Jones,
James White and The Blacks,
Goldenarms,
Gang Green,
Peter and Kerry,
Nas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Slick Rick,
Crash Course in Science,
Blake Baxter,
Sixth Finger,
Aloha Tigers,
Half Japanese,
CMW,
Loose Ends,
Roy Ayers,
Hashim,
Traffic Nightmare,
Godley & Creme,
Index,
Barclay James Harvest,
Colin Newman,
New Age Steppers,
Ornette Coleman,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.