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 Rwanda and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba 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 Bobby Sherman to the electroclash 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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Lydon,
DJ Sneak,
Sonny Sharrock,
Spoonie Gee,
Public Image Ltd.,
Janne Schatter,
The Techniques,
Gang Starr,
Mantronix,
DJ Style,
Charles Mingus,
The Gories,
The Martian,
Avey Tare,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The American Breed,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bauhaus,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sällskapet,
Kas Product,
Massinfluence,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Angry Samoans,
David Bowie,
Das Ding,
Alphaville,
Sound Behaviour,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Brick,
Bill Wells,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nik Kershaw,
Shoche,
Can,
Country Teasers,
Gong,
Quadrant,
Camouflage,
cv313,
The Names,
Fear,
OOIOO,
L. Decosne,
Metal Thangz,
Procol Harum,
The Monochrome Set,
Patti Smith,
Scratch Acid,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Brass Construction,
Cal Tjader,
AZ,
EPMD,
Brand Nubian,
Skaos,
Lakeside,
Chrome,
The Cramps,
Kool Moe Dee,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.