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 Antigua and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 David Bowie to the crunk 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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control 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 electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mandrill,
Jawbox,
Rakim,
The Golliwogs,
The Fall,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rufus Thomas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Faraquet,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Pretty Things,
Cameo,
U.S. Maple,
Lucky Dragons,
Saccharine Trust,
Siglo XX,
Harry Pussy,
Deakin,
The Smiths,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Skaos,
Black Pus,
Crime,
Pulsallama,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The J.B.'s,
Wasted Youth,
John Foxx,
Stetsasonic,
Dual Sessions,
B.T. Express,
the Soft Cell,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Man Eating Sloth,
48th St. Collective,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Qualms,
Roy Ayers,
The Stooges,
Ten City,
Monks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Youth Brigade,
World's Most,
Joe Smooth,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Tremeloes,
Popol Vuh,
Suicide,
The Gap Band,
Gabor Szabo,
Von Mondo,
Gang Green,
Hashim,
Oneida,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Wake,
La Düsseldorf,
One Last Wish,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.