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 Dominica and from Cairo.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Pere Ubu to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Selecter,
Crooked Eye,
The Flesh Eaters,
Freddie Wadling,
Anthony Braxton,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Harry Pussy,
Royal Trux,
Barry Ungar,
Second Layer,
Bobby Byrd,
Ponytail,
Ronan,
Sonny Sharrock,
Metal Thangz,
The Victims,
June Days,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Real Kids,
Unrelated Segments,
The Divine Comedy,
DNA,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Andrew Hill,
The Stooges,
Y Pants,
Reuben Wilson,
Ken Boothe,
Flipper,
Letta Mbulu,
Cal Tjader,
Altered Images,
Spoonie Gee,
Crispy Ambulance,
The New Christs,
Charles Mingus,
Monolake,
The Busters,
Grey Daturas,
Babytalk,
Black Bananas,
The Last Poets,
Morten Harket,
Bush Tetras,
Brand Nubian,
Wasted Youth,
The Pop Group,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Seeds,
The Fall,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Half Japanese,
ABC,
These Immortal Souls,
Scan 7,
Index,
Scientists,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.