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 Uganda and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lower 48 to the punk 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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gap Band,
New Order,
Brass Construction,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare,
Gichy Dan,
Peter and Kerry,
Joe Finger,
The Alarm Clocks,
Maurizio,
John Holt,
Erasure,
the Association,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Television Personalities,
Camberwell Now,
Rosa Yemen,
Essential Logic,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gang Green,
Supertramp,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Knickerbockers,
Black Sheep,
Index,
Sixth Finger,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Niagra,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Depeche Mode,
Johnny Clarke,
The Litter,
Das Ding,
Rotary Connection,
Soul II Soul,
Roger Hodgson,
Nico,
Derrick Morgan,
The Seeds,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jacques Brel,
Inner City,
Bill Near,
Nas,
Rites of Spring,
The Standells,
10cc,
Severed Heads,
Sun City Girls,
This Heat,
John Coltrane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Section 25,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Infiniti,
Todd Terry,
Harry Pussy,
Crime,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.