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 Venezuela and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 theremin 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 Q65 to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Organ,
Sun City Girls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Swell Maps,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Smiths,
The Fortunes,
Schoolly D,
The Five Americans,
Massinfluence,
Robert Hood,
The Real Kids,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Black Pus,
Rufus Thomas,
Chrome,
Darondo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Loose Ends,
Public Enemy,
Fear,
Qualms,
Rites of Spring,
Second Layer,
Ten City,
Black Sheep,
Jacques Brel,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Raincoats,
Erykah Badu,
the Bar-Kays,
Accadde A,
Television,
Jandek,
Tomorrow,
Sparks,
Camouflage,
Al Stewart,
The Black Dice,
Zero Boys,
The Slits,
Colin Newman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Byron Stingily,
Section 25,
Joensuu 1685,
The J.B.'s,
Magazine,
Procol Harum,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Charles Mingus,
Blancmange,
The Last Poets,
Au Pairs,
Carl Craig,
Fad Gadget,
Andrew Hill,
U.S. Maple,
Ultra Naté,
Josef K,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.