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 Turkmenistan and from Tokyo.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the dance 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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Smooth 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
The Residents,
The Birthday Party,
Pulsallama,
Hasil Adkins,
Yaz,
Steve Hackett,
The Standells,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Faraquet,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Aural Exciters,
Barbara Tucker,
Kurtis Blow,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
cv313,
Nick Fraelich,
Lucky Dragons,
Derrick Morgan,
Aswad,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alphaville,
Quantec,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Carl Craig,
Don Cherry,
The Fugs,
the Swans,
Ten City,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Godley & Creme,
Mandrill,
Hardrive,
Sarah Menescal,
Lou Christie,
Grauzone,
The Moleskins,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pet Shop Boys,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grey Daturas,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
R.M.O.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Amazonics,
James White and The Blacks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Saccharine Trust,
Dark Day,
Spoonie Gee,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sixth Finger,
Althea and Donna,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sex Pistols,
the Fania All-Stars,
Motorama,
Stiv Bators,
Marcia Griffiths,
Connie Case,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.