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 Gambia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 linndrum 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 Reuben Wilson to the electroclash 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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Brass Construction,
Skriet,
Livin' Joy,
Al Stewart,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Chris Corsano,
Thee Headcoats,
The Human League,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Marine Girls,
Circle Jerks,
Howard Jones,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Deakin,
The Mojo Men,
Rufus Thomas,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sparks,
The Invisible,
Bauhaus,
Cluster,
Crash Course in Science,
Alice Coltrane,
Johnny Clarke,
DNA,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ludus,
The Blues Magoos,
Marvin Gaye,
Darondo,
Stetsasonic,
Drexciya,
Scott Walker,
The Martian,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dawn Penn,
The Stooges,
The Toasters,
Joe Finger,
Barrington Levy,
The Monochrome Set,
Fugazi,
Carl Craig,
Depeche Mode,
Gabor Szabo,
The Moody Blues,
Jesper Dahlback,
Don Cherry,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bootsy Collins,
Basic Channel,
The Durutti Column,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roy Ayers,
Pantaleimon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.