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 Colombia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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 Alarm Clocks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
X-Ray Spex,
D'Angelo,
Alice Coltrane,
The Searchers,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Sonics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Malaria!,
Camouflage,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mo-Dettes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Excepter,
Gang Starr,
Mark Hollis,
Second Layer,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sandy B,
Minutemen,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Tom Boy,
Drexciya,
KRS-One,
Amazonics,
Soulsonic Force,
Lower 48,
Bush Tetras,
Motorama,
Ludus,
The Invisible,
Aloha Tigers,
Ronnie Foster,
Bad Manners,
The Index,
Eden Ahbez,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radio Birdman,
Interpol,
Kaleidoscope,
Prince Buster,
Yellowson,
Arthur Verocai,
Don Cherry,
The Kinks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Human League,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Electric Prunes,
The Mojo Men,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Music Machine,
the Germs,
Henry Cow,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Whodini,
Derrick Morgan,
The Electric Prunes,
Monolake,
Arab on Radar,
F. McDonald,
Das Ding,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.