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 Grenada and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester 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 synthesizer 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 The Victims to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
Harry Pussy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Whodini,
Procol Harum,
Von Mondo,
Scratch Acid,
X-Ray Spex,
Eurythmics,
Metal Thangz,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Matthew Bourne,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Porter Ricks,
Maleditus Sound,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Country Teasers,
Althea and Donna,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Charles Mingus,
The Zeros,
Wasted Youth,
Half Japanese,
Brass Construction,
The Barracudas,
Masters at Work,
Scott Walker,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Marcia Griffiths,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Litter,
Rakim,
Shoche,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Smiths,
Flipper,
The Fugs,
The Vogues,
Suburban Knight,
Wolf Eyes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
10cc,
Sugar Minott,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Piero Umiliani,
Ohio Players,
Dead Boys,
Infiniti,
Deepchord,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Q and Not U,
Lou Christie,
The Saints,
June Days,
Crime,
Simply Red,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.