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 Vanuatu and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
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 chamberlin 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 Soul Sonic Force to the funk 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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Little Man,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Traffic Nightmare,
DJ Style,
Television Personalities,
Desert Stars,
Pantaleimon,
Livin' Joy,
Lucky Dragons,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kool Moe Dee,
David Axelrod,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barbara Tucker,
Kayak,
Kurtis Blow,
Babytalk,
Jimmy McGriff,
Trumans Water,
the Fania All-Stars,
Von Mondo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scan 7,
Young Marble Giants,
The Grass Roots,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Five Americans,
Moss Icon,
Black Pus,
Camouflage,
The Fuzztones,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ituana,
MDC,
Massinfluence,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultra Naté,
Minny Pops,
Todd Terry,
the Soft Cell,
Archie Shepp,
Wings,
The Alarm Clocks,
James White and The Blacks,
Slick Rick,
Althea and Donna,
the Slits,
Country Teasers,
The Saints,
Pantytec,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eurythmics,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mummies,
Mark Hollis,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.