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 Palau and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 synthesizer 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 Tropical Tobacco to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Gil Scott Heron,
ABBA,
Whodini,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mandrill,
Bluetip,
Gastr Del Sol,
Underground Resistance,
Marine Girls,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Schoolly D,
cv313,
The Cowsills,
Tommy Roe,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Wake,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
X-Ray Spex,
Ludus,
Sun Ra,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Alison Limerick,
The Buckinghams,
Crooked Eye,
10cc,
The Walker Brothers,
Mission of Burma,
Sarah Menescal,
China Crisis,
The Blues Magoos,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang Starr,
Unrelated Segments,
Brick,
Masters at Work,
Monks,
June Days,
Interpol,
Scan 7,
Brand Nubian,
Neil Young,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pagans,
Metal Thangz,
the Fania All-Stars,
Marvin Gaye,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Harry Pussy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lower 48,
Simply Red,
Sugar Minott,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lakeside,
Sam Rivers,
Chrome,
Camouflage,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Soft Cell,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.