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 Mongolia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and London.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Mad Mike to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pierre Henry,
Pulsallama,
Reagan Youth,
Roy Ayers,
Fear,
Smog,
Lindisfarne,
Grey Daturas,
Mark Hollis,
Johnny Clarke,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Birthday Party,
Mo-Dettes,
The Pretty Things,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Hood,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nation of Ulysses,
Throbbing Gristle,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cowsills,
Franke,
Motorama,
One Last Wish,
Eurythmics,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lyres,
Liliput,
Amon Düül,
Joey Negro,
Pagans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June Days,
Skarface,
Faust,
Television,
Josef K,
Y Pants,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dark Day,
Bobby Womack,
Organ,
Accadde A,
Basic Channel,
David Axelrod,
Oblivians,
Ken Boothe,
Kenny Larkin,
a-ha,
Colin Newman,
Dave Gahan,
Zapp,
Kerrie Biddell,
Procol Harum,
The American Breed,
the Bar-Kays,
Livin' Joy,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.