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 Cyprus and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord 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 the Swans to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Quadrant,
The Toasters,
Al Stewart,
Black Pus,
Tres Demented,
Quantec,
Black Moon,
The Beau Brummels,
Buzzcocks,
Piero Umiliani,
Clear Light,
Jeff Mills,
Vainqueur,
Drexciya,
Stereo Dub,
Moby Grape,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Sound,
Lindisfarne,
The Monochrome Set,
CMW,
Pussy Galore,
New Order,
Mission of Burma,
Donald Byrd,
Deepchord,
Joensuu 1685,
Gang of Four,
Mantronix,
Warren Ellis,
the Soft Cell,
Cheater Slicks,
FM Einheit,
Archie Shepp,
Marc Almond,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kayak,
Marmalade,
Scrapy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joy Division,
The Misunderstood,
Swell Maps,
Agent Orange,
Lalann,
Jawbox,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Television Personalities,
World's Most,
Newcleus,
Chris & Cosey,
The Dirtbombs,
AZ,
The Mummies,
Rufus Thomas,
The Buckinghams,
R.M.O.,
Lower 48,
Amazonics,
Unwound,
Q65,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.