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 Nauru and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Donald Fagen 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soft Cell,
Infiniti,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soft Machine,
Index,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ken Boothe,
The Residents,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Electric Prunes,
The Beau Brummels,
Hardrive,
Pet Shop Boys,
Hashim,
Joe Smooth,
Donald Byrd,
Alice Coltrane,
The Selecter,
The Count Five,
Panda Bear,
Scion,
Warsaw,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Moebius,
John Lydon,
Lebanon Hanover,
Q and Not U,
Chris & Cosey,
The Moleskins,
A Certain Ratio,
Negative Approach,
Fat Boys,
The Real Kids,
The Barracudas,
Tubeway Army,
Fatback Band,
Magazine,
The Star Department,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Camberwell Now,
Tres Demented,
David McCallum,
the Swans,
Slick Rick,
The Associates,
The Gories,
Connie Case,
Howard Jones,
Suicide,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lindisfarne,
Minutemen,
Blake Baxter,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lightning Bolt,
10cc,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.