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 Romania and from Taipei.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the funk 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Youth Brigade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Joe Smooth,
K-Klass,
the Soft Cell,
Harry Pussy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ronnie Foster,
The Selecter,
The Detroit Cobras,
Television,
Scion,
EPMD,
Bobby Byrd,
Idris Muhammad,
Traffic Nightmare,
Tomorrow,
Tom Boy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Arab on Radar,
Dark Day,
Mr. Review,
X-102,
Fluxion,
Organ,
Avey Tare,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ohio Players,
Crime,
the Association,
The Searchers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Vainqueur,
Cal Tjader,
Tim Buckley,
John Cale,
Wally Richardson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mark Hollis,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Toni Rubio,
Liliput,
Stiv Bators,
Scott Walker,
Groovy Waters,
Cecil Taylor,
Agent Orange,
Freddie Wadling,
kango's stein massive,
Lightning Bolt,
The Sonics,
Bob Dylan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
OOIOO,
Vladislav Delay,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Count Five,
Lyres,
One Last Wish,
Motorama,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.