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 Mozambique and from Bologna.
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 Tehran and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sexual Harrassment to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 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 Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eden Ahbez,
Stiv Bators,
Fela Kuti,
Masters at Work,
Rosa Yemen,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Sheep,
Groovy Waters,
Guru Guru,
Essential Logic,
Crime,
June of 44,
B.T. Express,
Traffic Nightmare,
Model 500,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Sound,
Fear,
Mad Mike,
Sarah Menescal,
The Skatalites,
Kerri Chandler,
Cybotron,
Intrusion,
The Shadows of Knight,
Au Pairs,
John Holt,
The Zeros,
Outsiders,
Todd Terry,
Flamin' Groovies,
Howard Jones,
Ludus,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Bananas,
Massinfluence,
Colin Newman,
Dorothy Ashby,
Main Source,
Rufus Thomas,
Ken Boothe,
Spandau Ballet,
Saccharine Trust,
Terry Callier,
Bobby Womack,
CMW,
Kayak,
DNA,
Chris Corsano,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Flash Fearless,
Eurythmics,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Connie Case,
Average White Band,
Lou Reed,
Grey Daturas,
Q65,
L. Decosne,
The Gap Band,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.