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 Congo and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tokyo.
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 theremin 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ice-T,
The Beau Brummels,
Chris Corsano,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ohio Players,
The Leaves,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mr. Review,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Smoke,
Minutemen,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Max Romeo,
Tubeway Army,
Urselle,
Public Enemy,
Ten City,
Sarah Menescal,
Marc Almond,
Wire,
Dawn Penn,
Spoonie Gee,
The Move,
Man Eating Sloth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Harry Pussy,
Joe Finger,
Public Image Ltd.,
Harmonia,
The Offenders,
Vainqueur,
The Gap Band,
Accadde A,
Jeff Lynne,
T.S.O.L.,
Hasil Adkins,
DJ Style,
Lower 48,
The Young Rascals,
Joensuu 1685,
Barclay James Harvest,
Subhumans,
Bush Tetras,
JFA,
The Dirtbombs,
Fear,
DNA,
Au Pairs,
Fad Gadget,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobby Sherman,
ABC,
Jimmy McGriff,
Unrelated Segments,
Moebius,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
a-ha,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.