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 Somalia and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Swell Maps 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang 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?
Lightning Bolt,
the Germs,
Ossler,
The Sonics,
Carl Craig,
Lalann,
T. Rex,
The Busters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Excepter,
The Music Machine,
Subhumans,
Underground Resistance,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eric Copeland,
Mr. Review,
Bluetip,
Roy Ayers,
Country Teasers,
Sex Pistols,
Susan Cadogan,
The Slackers,
Moby Grape,
Newcleus,
Terrestrial Tones,
Henry Cow,
Buzzcocks,
Iggy Pop,
Organ,
Amazonics,
Byron Stingily,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Vainqueur,
Yellowson,
Terry Callier,
Black Moon,
Gichy Dan,
Bill Near,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Blossom Toes,
The Happenings,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tim Buckley,
Nik Kershaw,
Mars,
Interpol,
Unrelated Segments,
Infiniti,
Lower 48,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Moleskins,
Slick Rick,
The Angels of Light,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Silicon Teens,
The Residents,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gil Scott Heron,
Echospace,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.