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 Togo and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Kerrie Biddell,
June of 44,
Avey Tare,
the Association,
Tom Boy,
Juan Atkins,
Letta Mbulu,
The Monks,
Soft Machine,
The Searchers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Durutti Column,
Eve St. Jones,
a-ha,
Simply Red,
Negative Approach,
Ituana,
Faraquet,
Harry Pussy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sight & Sound,
Magazine,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cameo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Warsaw,
Mark Hollis,
Q and Not U,
Harpers Bizarre,
Idris Muhammad,
Television Personalities,
Sam Rivers,
Gang Green,
Smog,
Barrington Levy,
Sister Nancy,
U.S. Maple,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Selecter,
Bang On A Can,
the Fania All-Stars,
Shuggie Otis,
The Black Dice,
Yusef Lateef,
This Heat,
Agitation Free,
Stetsasonic,
Wally Richardson,
Jerry's Kids,
Todd Terry,
Brick,
The New Christs,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Star Department,
Lower 48,
Moebius,
Fear,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobby Sherman,
Kerri Chandler,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.