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 Ethiopia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin 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 The Raincoats to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sam Rivers,
Scott Walker,
Bootsy Collins,
Fluxion,
The Golliwogs,
Simply Red,
World's Most,
The Standells,
Surgeon,
Camouflage,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Arcadia,
Clear Light,
La Düsseldorf,
Japan,
Letta Mbulu,
Soft Machine,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sandy B,
the Sonics,
Darondo,
Faust,
Malaria!,
Gang Green,
Black Moon,
Outsiders,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Residents,
the Slits,
Cheater Slicks,
Lebanon Hanover,
Circle Jerks,
Pantaleimon,
The Victims,
Adolescents,
Jeff Mills,
Roy Ayers,
The Stooges,
Dave Gahan,
Sun City Girls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
T. Rex,
Joe Finger,
Yellowson,
The Fire Engines,
Danielle Patucci,
The Red Krayola,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
a-ha,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultravox,
Donald Byrd,
The Motions,
Barrington Levy,
Cybotron,
DJ Style,
Animal Collective,
Saccharine Trust,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.