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 Togo and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 guitar 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 Eve St. Jones to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Agent Orange,
The Moleskins,
EPMD,
New York Dolls,
The Mummies,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Skriet,
Wolf Eyes,
PIL,
Sandy B,
Ten City,
Camouflage,
Heaven 17,
Boredoms,
Jerry's Kids,
The Smoke,
Sixth Finger,
Masters at Work,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Slits,
Los Fastidios,
Marcia Griffiths,
Basic Channel,
Neu!,
Livin' Joy,
Guru Guru,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tres Demented,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bobby Sherman,
Gichy Dan,
Andrew Hill,
Stetsasonic,
Von Mondo,
The Leaves,
Carl Craig,
The Knickerbockers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Aaron Thompson,
China Crisis,
Chrome,
Colin Newman,
The Cowsills,
Cluster,
Joe Smooth,
Quando Quango,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Max Romeo,
Cymande,
Tommy Roe,
Nico,
Eve St. Jones,
Technova,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Standells,
The Dead C,
Urselle,
L. Decosne,
Alice Coltrane,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.