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 China and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 DJ Style to the techno 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Fad Gadget,
Bronski Beat,
Sex Pistols,
Danielle Patucci,
The Cure,
Fugazi,
Amon Düül II,
Tim Buckley,
Fat Boys,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scrapy,
Sällskapet,
The Tremeloes,
EPMD,
Gerry Rafferty,
Al Stewart,
The Divine Comedy,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Names,
Judy Mowatt,
Andrew Hill,
Ice-T,
Sound Behaviour,
Michelle Simonal,
The Dirtbombs,
The Beau Brummels,
Hoover,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang of Four,
Parry Music,
Maurizio,
Graham Central Station,
Marmalade,
Stereo Dub,
Symarip,
The Detroit Cobras,
Funky Four + One,
Cal Tjader,
Youth Brigade,
Niagra,
The Blackbyrds,
Model 500,
Joyce Sims,
Thompson Twins,
Y Pants,
LL Cool J,
Flipper,
The Mummies,
Alison Limerick,
The Cramps,
Charles Mingus,
Monolake,
Smog,
the Swans,
The Dead C,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Moby Grape,
Nico,
Ten City,
Funkadelic,
Panda Bear,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.