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 Yemen and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jeru the Damaja to the disco 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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
the Soft Cell,
Faraquet,
Cymande,
These Immortal Souls,
Bad Manners,
Deakin,
Q and Not U,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Spoonie Gee,
Arthur Verocai,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Delon & Dalcan,
Das Ding,
Mission of Burma,
Audionom,
Hot Snakes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Cure,
Smog,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mars,
Soft Machine,
Freddie Wadling,
Camouflage,
Scion,
Echospace,
World's Most,
Sound Behaviour,
The Red Krayola,
The Neon Judgement,
The Five Americans,
Oneida,
Judy Mowatt,
the Sonics,
The Grass Roots,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gerry Rafferty,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Walker Brothers,
Gabor Szabo,
The Moody Blues,
Dual Sessions,
Chris & Cosey,
The Music Machine,
Ossler,
Soft Cell,
The Last Poets,
Todd Rundgren,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jerry's Kids,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Stereo Dub,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Womack,
Warsaw,
Motorama,
The Litter,
Zapp,
Pierre Henry,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.