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 Eritrea and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 arpeggiator 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 Davy DMX to the dance 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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bush Tetras,
Wolf Eyes,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Stiv Bators,
Inner City,
Glenn Branca,
Crash Course in Science,
Wasted Youth,
Buzzcocks,
the Human League,
Shoche,
The Star Department,
The Kinks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Cowsills,
Trumans Water,
Kerrie Biddell,
Chris & Cosey,
Agitation Free,
Jeru the Damaja,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ice-T,
Ituana,
Lungfish,
The Fugs,
Joe Finger,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Godley & Creme,
Iggy Pop,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Theoretical Girls,
The Mummies,
Warren Ellis,
David Bowie,
H. Thieme,
Boredoms,
Stetsasonic,
Gang of Four,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jacques Brel,
Terry Callier,
Roxy Music,
Public Enemy,
Todd Terry,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lyres,
The Tremeloes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Red Krayola,
Brass Construction,
Marine Girls,
Lee Hazlewood,
One Last Wish,
Guru Guru,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sparks,
Marcia Griffiths,
kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive.
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.