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 New Zealand and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 organ 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the punk 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 Dual Sessions. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Joey Negro,
Mantronix,
The American Breed,
Bang On A Can,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ituana,
La Düsseldorf,
Au Pairs,
Public Enemy,
Newcleus,
B.T. Express,
Brass Construction,
The Associates,
Echospace,
Vladislav Delay,
Fluxion,
Davy DMX,
The Grass Roots,
Youth Brigade,
The Leaves,
Marc Almond,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Moon,
Symarip,
Grey Daturas,
Carl Craig,
Grauzone,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Slits,
Mandrill,
Das Ding,
Procol Harum,
Groovy Waters,
H. Thieme,
Tres Demented,
Lucky Dragons,
Crooked Eye,
Nirvana,
Bootsy Collins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bluetip,
Juan Atkins,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Andrew Hill,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Monks,
The Standells,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
James White and The Blacks,
Interpol,
The Neon Judgement,
FM Einheit,
Robert Hood,
Gichy Dan,
Outsiders,
Rotary Connection,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wings,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.