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 Macedonia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 Cheater Slicks to the electroclash 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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Wasted Youth,
Big Daddy Kane,
Magazine,
Drexciya,
the Slits,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Neon Judgement,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kurtis Blow,
Black Pus,
Japan,
Jeff Mills,
Tubeway Army,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Aloha Tigers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sandy B,
Second Layer,
Depeche Mode,
Smog,
Severed Heads,
Lucky Dragons,
Sister Nancy,
Scion,
Derrick Morgan,
Eve St. Jones,
Roxy Music,
Gabor Szabo,
Ronnie Foster,
The Grass Roots,
Brand Nubian,
Chrome,
John Foxx,
The Shadows of Knight,
Carl Craig,
Roger Hodgson,
Letta Mbulu,
Yellowson,
Can,
Nirvana,
Mars,
Niagra,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
T.S.O.L.,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rakim,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Matthew Bourne,
Henry Cow,
T. Rex,
Peter and Kerry,
Das Ding,
Bluetip,
Bauhaus,
Todd Terry,
Mandrill,
Inner City,
Cymande,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pagans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown.
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.