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 Nauru and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Kayak,
The Velvet Underground,
Skriet,
Clear Light,
Connie Case,
Mary Jane Girls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Donald Byrd,
Archie Shepp,
Slick Rick,
Roy Ayers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Tremeloes,
Suicide,
Country Joe & The Fish,
David Bowie,
Main Source,
Los Fastidios,
Bill Near,
Mad Mike,
The Count Five,
DNA,
The Saints,
The Black Dice,
Jacques Brel,
X-Ray Spex,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tim Buckley,
the Swans,
Saccharine Trust,
Severed Heads,
The Busters,
Theoretical Girls,
Hasil Adkins,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Talk Talk,
R.M.O.,
Pet Shop Boys,
Parry Music,
Yusef Lateef,
The Searchers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Todd Terry,
Rod Modell,
Maurizio,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Modern Lovers,
Lakeside,
Eden Ahbez,
Blossom Toes,
Symarip,
Marcia Griffiths,
In Retrospect,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brass Construction,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Angels of Light,
Reagan Youth,
Wasted Youth,
The Monochrome Set,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.