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 Czech Republic and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Tom Boy to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Anthony Braxton,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Pus,
Slick Rick,
Von Mondo,
Dead Boys,
Los Fastidios,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Joensuu 1685,
Minutemen,
Oneida,
The Gories,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kurtis Blow,
Q65,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Al Stewart,
The Fuzztones,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Wake,
Kerrie Biddell,
Brass Construction,
Jerry Gold Smith,
This Heat,
Amon Düül II,
Albert Ayler,
The Dave Clark Five,
Parry Music,
Khruangbin,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boogie Down Productions,
Donald Byrd,
The Music Machine,
Shuggie Otis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jerry's Kids,
Yusef Lateef,
Pantaleimon,
Mission of Burma,
Crooked Eye,
Y Pants,
Slave,
The Monks,
John Foxx,
Graham Central Station,
Pere Ubu,
Negative Approach,
Liliput,
John Holt,
Blancmange,
Suburban Knight,
Cameo,
Desert Stars,
Roxy Music,
Minnie Riperton,
Sandy B,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Juan Atkins,
Scientists,
The Sound,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.