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 Benin and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Paris.
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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Glambeats Corp. to the electroclash 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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
ABC,
Crispy Ambulance,
Susan Cadogan,
Rod Modell,
Leonard Cohen,
The Flesh Eaters,
Connie Case,
Marine Girls,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Bar-Kays,
New Age Steppers,
The Stooges,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Last Poets,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Johnny Clarke,
48th St. Collective,
FM Einheit,
Quantec,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Faust,
The Wake,
Scion,
Minor Threat,
The Real Kids,
The Evens,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ken Boothe,
Suburban Knight,
Spandau Ballet,
Boogie Down Productions,
Das Ding,
Boredoms,
Sixth Finger,
Dead Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Yellowson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Aloha Tigers,
T. Rex,
Harpers Bizarre,
Delta 5,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Names,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Q and Not U,
Fatback Band,
Crime,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Reed,
B.T. Express,
The Star Department,
Babytalk,
The New Christs,
The Offenders,
The Divine Comedy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sound Behaviour,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.