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 Ireland and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Ice-T to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Marshall Jefferson,
H. Thieme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Maleditus Sound,
The Trojans,
Crash Course in Science,
EPMD,
Scratch Acid,
Franke,
Gang Green,
Iggy Pop,
Jacob Miller,
Chrome,
Oneida,
Unrelated Segments,
The Beau Brummels,
Tim Buckley,
La Düsseldorf,
Das Ding,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lou Christie,
Joensuu 1685,
the Bar-Kays,
ABBA,
Althea and Donna,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Five Americans,
Sight & Sound,
The Toasters,
Bad Manners,
Motorama,
Groovy Waters,
Alphaville,
Harry Pussy,
The Sound,
Leonard Cohen,
Eric Copeland,
Ice-T,
Gang Starr,
Connie Case,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Interpol,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dawn Penn,
Gong,
Lightning Bolt,
Pierre Henry,
Sun Ra,
Juan Atkins,
Toni Rubio,
OOIOO,
Little Man,
The Detroit Cobras,
B.T. Express,
Cecil Taylor,
Eli Mardock,
John Coltrane,
LL Cool J,
Sparks,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.