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 Korea North and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 The Invisible to the funk 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
Laurel Aitken,
The Fuzztones,
Deakin,
The Barracudas,
Joey Negro,
cv313,
Theoretical Girls,
Pulsallama,
Agent Orange,
The Star Department,
The Toasters,
Brothers Johnson,
H. Thieme,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Surgeon,
The Dead C,
Man Eating Sloth,
Adolescents,
John Foxx,
Cheater Slicks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Althea and Donna,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mary Jane Girls,
Public Image Ltd.,
Flipper,
KRS-One,
The Gap Band,
Robert Hood,
Ten City,
Siglo XX,
The Remains,
The Five Americans,
Crime,
Unwound,
Essential Logic,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Raincoats,
Metal Thangz,
Alphaville,
Reuben Wilson,
Lucky Dragons,
The Monochrome Set,
Soft Machine,
Scott Walker,
Hoover,
Liliput,
Roger Hodgson,
Jacques Brel,
The Invisible,
Piero Umiliani,
B.T. Express,
Warren Ellis,
Duran Duran,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang of Four,
Radio Birdman,
8 Eyed Spy,
Junior Murvin,
Mantronix,
Gabor Szabo,
Aural Exciters,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.