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 Kyrgyzstan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Human League to the rap 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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
the Germs,
Camberwell Now,
Sex Pistols,
The Buckinghams,
Marshall Jefferson,
Neu!,
the Human League,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Drive Like Jehu,
Neil Young,
Metal Thangz,
Echospace,
Blake Baxter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Accadde A,
Slave,
Derrick Morgan,
The Detroit Cobras,
D'Angelo,
Television,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ituana,
Johnny Osbourne,
Blossom Toes,
Lungfish,
The Fugs,
Panda Bear,
The American Breed,
Minor Threat,
Ludus,
Gerry Rafferty,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mark Hollis,
Depeche Mode,
Laurel Aitken,
Adolescents,
The New Christs,
CMW,
Tom Boy,
Yusef Lateef,
Rod Modell,
Connie Case,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hot Snakes,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Black Dice,
The Gap Band,
Harmonia,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
X-101,
Harry Pussy,
Fatback Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Brand Nubian,
Jeff Mills,
Surgeon,
Swell Maps,
ABC,
Bob Dylan,
Grey Daturas,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.