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 Micronesia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Alarm Clocks to the funk 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Kinks,
Donny Hathaway,
Yellowson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Oneida,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Sonics,
June Days,
Bad Manners,
Roy Ayers,
The Litter,
the Slits,
Nik Kershaw,
Matthew Bourne,
Underground Resistance,
Gastr Del Sol,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bob Dylan,
The Barracudas,
Wings,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eric Copeland,
Ten City,
Panda Bear,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Index,
Marc Almond,
The Black Dice,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mission of Burma,
Gang Starr,
Babytalk,
Donald Byrd,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Frankie Knuckles,
H. Thieme,
Basic Channel,
Livin' Joy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eddi Front,
Black Flag,
Rekid,
Porter Ricks,
Can,
The Pretty Things,
Neu!,
Negative Approach,
Country Teasers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Move,
Eric Dolphy,
The Raincoats,
Khruangbin,
Wasted Youth,
Organ,
The Leaves,
The Last Poets,
Desert Stars,
Pantaleimon,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.