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 Afghanistan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Alison Limerick to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Slave,
Donny Hathaway,
Morten Harket,
John Holt,
The New Christs,
June Days,
Barbara Tucker,
Bang On A Can,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang of Four,
The Dead C,
The Grass Roots,
Alphaville,
The Smiths,
Juan Atkins,
Infiniti,
Minor Threat,
Loose Ends,
Jeru the Damaja,
Radiohead,
T. Rex,
Ultra Naté,
Throbbing Gristle,
Panda Bear,
Patti Smith,
Ken Boothe,
Mandrill,
Sixth Finger,
Malaria!,
Junior Murvin,
Fugazi,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Y Pants,
Henry Cow,
The Red Krayola,
the Bar-Kays,
Vainqueur,
Das Ding,
Little Man,
Shuggie Otis,
X-101,
48th St. Collective,
The Seeds,
Godley & Creme,
Robert Hood,
Byron Stingily,
Magazine,
Babytalk,
10cc,
EPMD,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Echospace,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rosa Yemen,
Ossler,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Slackers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Minnie Riperton,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.