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 Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Michael McDonald 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 Scratch Acid to the dance 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Tom Boy,
Iggy Pop,
DNA,
Mr. Review,
Steve Hackett,
Slave,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kaleidoscope,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Boogie Down Productions,
Danielle Patucci,
Todd Terry,
Sun Ra,
Marmalade,
Scrapy,
Michelle Simonal,
Theoretical Girls,
Q and Not U,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Martian,
Basic Channel,
The Kinks,
Schoolly D,
Lalo Schifrin,
Con Funk Shun,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
AZ,
Crooked Eye,
Unrelated Segments,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Black Sheep,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bang On A Can,
Gichy Dan,
Japan,
Aaron Thompson,
Au Pairs,
Bauhaus,
Gregory Isaacs,
The American Breed,
Blossom Toes,
Wasted Youth,
Matthew Bourne,
The Residents,
H. Thieme,
The Misunderstood,
Sparks,
Brand Nubian,
Piero Umiliani,
Ituana,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marine Girls,
the Swans,
The Dead C,
Terry Callier,
Depeche Mode,
Avey Tare,
Arcadia,
Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew.
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.