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 Singapore and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 Graham Central Station to the techno 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
Harpers Bizarre,
Excepter,
Donny Hathaway,
Erasure,
Shuggie Otis,
Pylon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Scion,
Scott Walker,
Minutemen,
Arcadia,
Soft Cell,
Bad Manners,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Blues Magoos,
Ornette Coleman,
X-Ray Spex,
The Remains,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dawn Penn,
Gang Starr,
Robert Hood,
Tom Boy,
Gang of Four,
Ossler,
Siglo XX,
Gabor Szabo,
Half Japanese,
The Durutti Column,
Johnny Clarke,
Bob Dylan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
F. McDonald,
Rufus Thomas,
Eurythmics,
The Cowsills,
Camberwell Now,
Black Bananas,
Bronski Beat,
Shoche,
China Crisis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Star Department,
Fela Kuti,
The American Breed,
X-102,
Vainqueur,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Hashim,
Fluxion,
Rites of Spring,
Charles Mingus,
Thee Headcoats,
New Age Steppers,
Black Flag,
Technova,
The Trojans,
The Electric Prunes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Zero Boys,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.