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 Tunisia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Man Parrish,
Ohio Players,
Joe Finger,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Velvet Underground,
Jeff Mills,
Ultimate Spinach,
Connie Case,
Avey Tare,
Alton Ellis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Faraquet,
The Mojo Men,
The Skatalites,
FM Einheit,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nico,
Harry Pussy,
Todd Rundgren,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Animal Collective,
The Invisible,
Ituana,
Harmonia,
Al Stewart,
Alice Coltrane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Stooges,
T. Rex,
Peter and Kerry,
Wasted Youth,
Roy Ayers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Technova,
Gil Scott Heron,
Brand Nubian,
Ultravox,
CMW,
Das Ding,
Bill Near,
the Soft Cell,
Crispian St. Peters,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Johnny Clarke,
The Gories,
Brothers Johnson,
Bush Tetras,
Dawn Penn,
EPMD,
Dual Sessions,
The Pop Group,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sound,
Nirvana,
Reagan Youth,
Vainqueur,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Chris Corsano,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.