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 Venezuela 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 James White and The Blacks to the grunge 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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Gang Starr,
Swell Maps,
Bobby Sherman,
Pagans,
The Moleskins,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Skaos,
Visage,
Aaron Thompson,
Peter & Gordon,
Ossler,
Stiv Bators,
48th St. Collective,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Boredoms,
Heaven 17,
Khruangbin,
Jeff Lynne,
Henry Cow,
F. McDonald,
Radio Birdman,
Depeche Mode,
Siglo XX,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Talk Talk,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Neon Judgement,
Piero Umiliani,
Maleditus Sound,
The Velvet Underground,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Flesh Eaters,
Letta Mbulu,
The Toasters,
Radiohead,
Goldenarms,
Fluxion,
Malaria!,
Spandau Ballet,
cv313,
Pharoah Sanders,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bob Dylan,
Ohio Players,
Eurythmics,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Section 25,
Jesper Dahlback,
Television,
A Certain Ratio,
Camouflage,
The Gories,
Scientists,
Juan Atkins,
June of 44,
Donny Hathaway,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
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.