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 Papua New Guinea and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Mantronix to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unrelated Segments,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sister Nancy,
The Blackbyrds,
Absolute Body Control,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Y Pants,
Iggy Pop,
Los Fastidios,
Icehouse,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bootsy Collins,
Magazine,
Mantronix,
Janne Schatter,
Sex Pistols,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Residents,
The Kinks,
Grey Daturas,
Barry Ungar,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Piero Umiliani,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tubeway Army,
Delta 5,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Max Romeo,
Susan Cadogan,
Rekid,
The Cure,
Alice Coltrane,
The Birthday Party,
Harry Pussy,
Nas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Normal,
Man Eating Sloth,
Easy Going,
Lou Christie,
Buzzcocks,
The Beau Brummels,
Bauhaus,
Rakim,
The Invisible,
Severed Heads,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Mummies,
The Zeros,
Pulsallama,
the Bar-Kays,
The Golliwogs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Monks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lebanon Hanover,
Minnie Riperton,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.