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 Kuwait and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Los Fastidios 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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Harry Pussy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Beau Brummels,
Stockholm Monsters,
Donny Hathaway,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dave Gahan,
Sonic Youth,
Index,
Fad Gadget,
Hardrive,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
X-102,
The Slits,
Nico,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ken Boothe,
Marine Girls,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Severed Heads,
Eden Ahbez,
Young Marble Giants,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fela Kuti,
The Fall,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Suicide,
Throbbing Gristle,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Remains,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Agitation Free,
New Age Steppers,
The Birthday Party,
Susan Cadogan,
Pere Ubu,
Dawn Penn,
These Immortal Souls,
Deadbeat,
David Bowie,
Mad Mike,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tres Demented,
Underground Resistance,
Scott Walker,
Yusef Lateef,
Animal Collective,
the Normal,
The Stooges,
The Doors,
The Misunderstood,
The Sound,
Peter and Kerry,
Interpol,
David McCallum,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Star Department,
Fluxion,
Scientists,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.