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 Samoa and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 snare 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 Harry Pussy to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Wire,
Michelle Simonal,
H. Thieme,
Talk Talk,
Lucky Dragons,
A Certain Ratio,
Darondo,
Spoonie Gee,
Moebius,
The Durutti Column,
The Motions,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Model 500,
Q65,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
EPMD,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Swell Maps,
Eddi Front,
Monolake,
Bobby Womack,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sonics,
the Fania All-Stars,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Sound,
Cybotron,
The Offenders,
Aaron Thompson,
Ornette Coleman,
Sarah Menescal,
Kurtis Blow,
U.S. Maple,
Max Romeo,
Skaos,
Blake Baxter,
Flash Fearless,
Smog,
Crash Course in Science,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bluetip,
Inner City,
The Blackbyrds,
Youth Brigade,
The Golliwogs,
ABBA,
Ralphi Rosario,
Little Man,
The Mummies,
Kayak,
Dead Boys,
Johnny Clarke,
Can,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mantronix,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D.
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.