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 Bolivia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Swell Maps to the grunge 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Moody Blues,
Reuben Wilson,
Ice-T,
Public Enemy,
Bootsy Collins,
Eric Dolphy,
U.S. Maple,
Prince Buster,
Charles Mingus,
Girls At Our Best!,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Little Man,
Donny Hathaway,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jeff Mills,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Monks,
Pierre Henry,
Black Bananas,
Susan Cadogan,
Suburban Knight,
Albert Ayler,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Stockholm Monsters,
Letta Mbulu,
Alison Limerick,
The Gladiators,
The United States of America,
The Fuzztones,
Carl Craig,
Faust,
Stereo Dub,
Swans,
Hoover,
Pole,
Bobby Sherman,
The Divine Comedy,
The Misunderstood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
H. Thieme,
June of 44,
Urselle,
Siglo XX,
Grauzone,
Babytalk,
Pet Shop Boys,
Oneida,
Chris Corsano,
In Retrospect,
Rotary Connection,
Khruangbin,
Rakim,
Ultimate Spinach,
Darondo,
Skaos,
The Evens,
Tears for Fears,
Johnny Osbourne,
Eurythmics,
Dorothy Ashby,
Angry Samoans,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.