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 Sri Lanka and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Das Ding to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ 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 harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
X-102,
The Fall,
Cecil Taylor,
Prince Buster,
Hashim,
The Grass Roots,
The American Breed,
Adolescents,
Tres Demented,
Marmalade,
Anthony Braxton,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Cure,
Blake Baxter,
Joy Division,
Donald Byrd,
Bob Dylan,
Lyres,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Residents,
Rakim,
The Cowsills,
Unwound,
Bang On A Can,
Carl Craig,
Jeff Lynne,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Wake,
Juan Atkins,
Angry Samoans,
Circle Jerks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Young Rascals,
The Invisible,
Deakin,
Minny Pops,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Q65,
Sun City Girls,
Sugar Minott,
Quantec,
Bauhaus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Susan Cadogan,
Barrington Levy,
Robert Wyatt,
Kaleidoscope,
David Axelrod,
Sonic Youth,
Altered Images,
Radio Birdman,
Lalo Schifrin,
Heaven 17,
Shoche,
Subhumans,
The Doors,
Gong,
Camberwell Now,
Rhythm & Sound,
Arab on Radar,
Dave Gahan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.