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 Haiti and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 snare 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 Marine Girls to the electroclash 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols 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?
The Moleskins,
The Barracudas,
The Evens,
The Wake,
Sam Rivers,
MC5,
Girls At Our Best!,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Matthew Bourne,
The Flesh Eaters,
Laurel Aitken,
Sugar Minott,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mr. Review,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Tremeloes,
Kayak,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Modern Lovers,
Model 500,
Colin Newman,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
MDC,
Yaz,
Theoretical Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
The Red Krayola,
Section 25,
The Five Americans,
Moss Icon,
The Fall,
Joy Division,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Camouflage,
John Coltrane,
Quantec,
Ponytail,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sister Nancy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roy Ayers,
The Fugs,
June of 44,
Newcleus,
Nas,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Magazine,
Skriet,
Derrick May,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mary Jane Girls,
Soft Machine,
The Trojans,
The Techniques,
Joe Smooth,
Alison Limerick,
Grey Daturas,
The J.B.'s,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.