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 Taiwan and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 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 Janne Schatter to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gap Band,
Tres Demented,
Fluxion,
Pantaleimon,
Janne Schatter,
U.S. Maple,
The Fugs,
Bobby Womack,
10cc,
Scratch Acid,
Roy Ayers,
Pussy Galore,
Sun Ra,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Trojans,
Dawn Penn,
The Barracudas,
Cluster,
Nick Fraelich,
Glenn Branca,
Sparks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hardrive,
The Golliwogs,
The Cramps,
B.T. Express,
Brand Nubian,
Graham Central Station,
Althea and Donna,
Ornette Coleman,
Darondo,
Con Funk Shun,
Chris Corsano,
The Young Rascals,
The Moleskins,
Wally Richardson,
Robert Görl,
Cymande,
Ralphi Rosario,
ABBA,
F. McDonald,
Carl Craig,
These Immortal Souls,
Juan Atkins,
Marmalade,
The Red Krayola,
The American Breed,
Porter Ricks,
Colin Newman,
Interpol,
Jacob Miller,
Outsiders,
Quadrant,
Second Layer,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Moon,
The Tremeloes,
The Stooges,
The Offenders,
John Lydon,
Thee Headcoats,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.