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 Venezuela and from Halifax.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 harpsichord 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Ice-T,
Gil Scott Heron,
Howard Jones,
Prince Buster,
PIL,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lakeside,
The Doors,
The Leaves,
Whodini,
Crispian St. Peters,
Qualms,
Amon Düül II,
The Mojo Men,
The Saints,
Technova,
Dead Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nik Kershaw,
Nick Fraelich,
Gang of Four,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
DJ Style,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Rekid,
Magma,
Tears for Fears,
The Evens,
The Barracudas,
Fela Kuti,
Kerri Chandler,
Livin' Joy,
Talk Talk,
Nils Olav,
the Sonics,
Ralphi Rosario,
B.T. Express,
Panda Bear,
Severed Heads,
Pierre Henry,
David Bowie,
Alton Ellis,
Grey Daturas,
Stockholm Monsters,
Suburban Knight,
Grandmaster Flash,
Harry Pussy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeff Mills,
Peter and Kerry,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Moebius,
Mission of Burma,
Chrome,
Ultra Naté,
Essential Logic,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.