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 El Salvador and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Beijing.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Blossom Toes to the disco 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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
DJ Sneak,
Suburban Knight,
The Blackbyrds,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Reagan Youth,
Ronnie Foster,
the Human League,
Sex Pistols,
David Bowie,
Fat Boys,
Crime,
Erasure,
Ten City,
Mark Hollis,
Bill Wells,
Harpers Bizarre,
Glenn Branca,
Joe Finger,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Dennis Brown,
Joey Negro,
Tears for Fears,
Carl Craig,
The Vogues,
Silicon Teens,
Eli Mardock,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
LL Cool J,
Oblivians,
Anthony Braxton,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Loose Ends,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gabor Szabo,
DJ Style,
Brass Construction,
The Pop Group,
Boz Scaggs,
The Associates,
Duran Duran,
Sam Rivers,
Steve Hackett,
Pole,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sällskapet,
Erykah Badu,
The Doors,
B.T. Express,
Drexciya,
Q and Not U,
The Dirtbombs,
Dawn Penn,
John Lydon,
Hashim,
John Holt,
New York Dolls,
Main Source,
Eric B and Rakim,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.