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 Zimbabwe and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Eurythmics to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
John Lydon,
Yellowson,
Bootsy Collins,
Sarah Menescal,
Blake Baxter,
Crash Course in Science,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Anthony Braxton,
Lower 48,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marcia Griffiths,
Archie Shepp,
Radiohead,
Bluetip,
Johnny Clarke,
Motorama,
Warren Ellis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Magazine,
Pet Shop Boys,
X-101,
Cheater Slicks,
Flash Fearless,
Sight & Sound,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
PIL,
Connie Case,
Unrelated Segments,
The Cure,
Colin Newman,
Hardrive,
the Fania All-Stars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roxy Music,
Mad Mike,
Judy Mowatt,
Wings,
Cybotron,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Mo-Dettes,
X-102,
Supertramp,
Hashim,
Q and Not U,
Albert Ayler,
Nas,
Talk Talk,
The Zeros,
The American Breed,
Kool Moe Dee,
Don Cherry,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gang Gang Dance,
This Heat,
Alice Coltrane,
Mission of Burma,
Gastr Del Sol,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bronski Beat,
Ronan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.