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 Croatia and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 arpeggiator 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 Organ to the electroclash 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Suicide,
The Pop Group,
Cymande,
The Electric Prunes,
The Smoke,
Fad Gadget,
The Moleskins,
Cecil Taylor,
John Coltrane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Vladislav Delay,
Don Cherry,
Eli Mardock,
Nirvana,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dennis Brown,
T.S.O.L.,
Gang Green,
Negative Approach,
John Foxx,
Cluster,
Rosa Yemen,
Pere Ubu,
Kayak,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
48th St. Collective,
Yusef Lateef,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jeff Mills,
The Kinks,
Kenny Larkin,
Dorothy Ashby,
Skarface,
The Fortunes,
Prince Buster,
Moss Icon,
Index,
Mission of Burma,
The Raincoats,
Underground Resistance,
K-Klass,
Shoche,
Nick Fraelich,
Pussy Galore,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nas,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Camouflage,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Shuggie Otis,
June Days,
Lee Hazlewood,
Neil Young,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.