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 Canada and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 chamberlin 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 The New Christs to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
Fluxion,
Godley & Creme,
Deepchord,
The Techniques,
Basic Channel,
Goldenarms,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Spandau Ballet,
These Immortal Souls,
The Remains,
Lindisfarne,
The Victims,
Bob Dylan,
Qualms,
Mary Jane Girls,
Slick Rick,
Pussy Galore,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Sherman,
48th St. Collective,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eddi Front,
Avey Tare,
Supertramp,
Ultra Naté,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Grauzone,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Durutti Column,
Glenn Branca,
Althea and Donna,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Khruangbin,
Smog,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Swans,
Johnny Clarke,
Rakim,
Lakeside,
Radiohead,
Isaac Hayes,
cv313,
The Zeros,
Joe Smooth,
China Crisis,
Beasts of Bourbon,
David McCallum,
Deadbeat,
Procol Harum,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Happenings,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Traffic Nightmare,
Henry Cow,
Magazine,
The Fuzztones,
U.S. Maple,
Bobby Womack,
Heaven 17,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.