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 Ecuador and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Ultra Naté to the funk 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
The Residents,
Alton Ellis,
Technova,
Nik Kershaw,
Severed Heads,
Michelle Simonal,
Sixth Finger,
These Immortal Souls,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Metal Thangz,
Malaria!,
The Human League,
Blake Baxter,
Television Personalities,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dark Day,
Chrome,
F. McDonald,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
cv313,
Cecil Taylor,
The Stooges,
Agent Orange,
Au Pairs,
The Litter,
Index,
Dual Sessions,
Marmalade,
Mad Mike,
Magma,
Japan,
Ohio Players,
Mary Jane Girls,
Can,
The Beau Brummels,
Skriet,
Newcleus,
Kerri Chandler,
Scientists,
Terrestrial Tones,
Faust,
Thee Headcoats,
The Black Dice,
Albert Ayler,
The J.B.'s,
Von Mondo,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Duran Duran,
The Martian,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultra Naté,
Delta 5,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gladiators,
Siglo XX,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.