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 Hungary and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Masters at Work to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
The Alarm Clocks,
DJ Style,
The Slits,
Wasted Youth,
The Slackers,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Wake,
Rites of Spring,
Zapp,
Danielle Patucci,
Joe Smooth,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ituana,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
A Certain Ratio,
One Last Wish,
Hardrive,
Don Cherry,
Morten Harket,
Wally Richardson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Isaac Hayes,
Young Marble Giants,
Althea and Donna,
Little Man,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mandrill,
The Monks,
Robert Görl,
Animal Collective,
Black Sheep,
Derrick Morgan,
The Tremeloes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Porter Ricks,
the Swans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mo-Dettes,
Josef K,
The Young Rascals,
Yazoo,
The Moleskins,
The Trojans,
In Retrospect,
The Dead C,
Rekid,
Brass Construction,
Bluetip,
Con Funk Shun,
Lightning Bolt,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jandek,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fugs,
Mr. Review,
The Blues Magoos,
The Invisible,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.