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 Honduras and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sarah Menescal 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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
The J.B.'s,
The Happenings,
Kerri Chandler,
Tomorrow,
Fluxion,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Jeff Mills,
Charles Mingus,
Dark Day,
Rakim,
Tres Demented,
The Leaves,
Lalann,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Mummies,
The Saints,
John Cale,
the Human League,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Count Five,
Moss Icon,
Soul Sonic Force,
Zero Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Circle Jerks,
Kas Product,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Y Pants,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Last Poets,
Black Sheep,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Lou Reed,
Scrapy,
Schoolly D,
Kenny Larkin,
Eden Ahbez,
Darondo,
Arab on Radar,
The Searchers,
Piero Umiliani,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gang Starr,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Cowsills,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Sound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Neon Judgement,
Con Funk Shun,
Arthur Verocai,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Don Cherry,
Shoche,
Nirvana,
Bush Tetras,
John Foxx,
Simply Red,
Skriet,
Byron Stingily,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.