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 India and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator 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 Radio Birdman to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The United States of America,
Matthew Bourne,
Angry Samoans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Niagra,
The Gories,
Qualms,
Drexciya,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Sheep,
Junior Murvin,
Roy Ayers,
Gil Scott Heron,
This Heat,
Wolf Eyes,
The Real Kids,
Deadbeat,
Procol Harum,
Mad Mike,
Henry Cow,
Blancmange,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Knickerbockers,
K-Klass,
F. McDonald,
The Flesh Eaters,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rakim,
Peter and Kerry,
Charles Mingus,
The Seeds,
The Blues Magoos,
John Coltrane,
The Happenings,
Excepter,
Whodini,
Unwound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dark Day,
Arcadia,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Grass Roots,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kas Product,
Toni Rubio,
Ronan,
The Motions,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
John Holt,
Chris Corsano,
Lyres,
Moby Grape,
the Normal,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ten City,
Mary Jane Girls,
Marmalade,
Sarah Menescal,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Soulsonic Force,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Glambeats Corp.,
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.