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 Dominica and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 güiro 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 The Remains to the crunk 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
The Count Five,
Colin Newman,
H. Thieme,
The Monochrome Set,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Alarm Clocks,
Urselle,
Brothers Johnson,
Bush Tetras,
Tommy Roe,
Alison Limerick,
The Gap Band,
Rufus Thomas,
Cal Tjader,
Pole,
The Gun Club,
Traffic Nightmare,
Joey Negro,
Television,
Youth Brigade,
Jacob Miller,
Davy DMX,
Animal Collective,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ultra Naté,
Monolake,
Skriet,
Sparks,
The Grass Roots,
Ultimate Spinach,
Flash Fearless,
Terrestrial Tones,
Model 500,
Clear Light,
8 Eyed Spy,
U.S. Maple,
Ronnie Foster,
Index,
ABC,
Marshall Jefferson,
Albert Ayler,
Qualms,
Yazoo,
Lalann,
The Victims,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Niagra,
Liliput,
Oblivians,
Jacques Brel,
Alphaville,
Nirvana,
Kerri Chandler,
Soul Sonic Force,
Deepchord,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stetsasonic,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.