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 Madagascar and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Bobby Byrd to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Dirtbombs,
K-Klass,
Tropical Tobacco,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Flipper,
Byron Stingily,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gabor Szabo,
Eric Dolphy,
Avey Tare,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mr. Review,
Q and Not U,
Albert Ayler,
Faust,
The New Christs,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Darondo,
Ronnie Foster,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Sonics,
Eurythmics,
Toni Rubio,
The Index,
Delon & Dalcan,
kango's stein massive,
Eddi Front,
Gregory Isaacs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Blues Magoos,
Cluster,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gil Scott Heron,
Blossom Toes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Davy DMX,
Inner City,
The Fire Engines,
The Associates,
New Order,
Black Pus,
New York Dolls,
Circle Jerks,
The Cure,
Outsiders,
Masters at Work,
Franke,
Thee Headcoats,
Bizarre Inc.,
Chris Corsano,
cv313,
Brand Nubian,
ABC,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Big Daddy Kane,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jacques Brel,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.