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 Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 harpsichord 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 The Walker Brothers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
The Mummies,
The Young Rascals,
Monolake,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Desert Stars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eli Mardock,
Skarface,
The Move,
The United States of America,
Ornette Coleman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Offenders,
OOIOO,
The Neon Judgement,
DJ Style,
Crime,
Matthew Bourne,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Knickerbockers,
the Association,
Q and Not U,
Gil Scott Heron,
Severed Heads,
Sun City Girls,
Fugazi,
Neil Young,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Television Personalities,
48th St. Collective,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Suburban Knight,
The Cramps,
Deadbeat,
Scion,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
F. McDonald,
The Skatalites,
Vladislav Delay,
In Retrospect,
Crash Course in Science,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Roger Hodgson,
Freddie Wadling,
Bush Tetras,
The Slackers,
Jawbox,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sister Nancy,
Tommy Roe,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Gap Band,
Blake Baxter,
Donald Byrd,
Albert Ayler,
Prince Buster,
X-102,
Average White Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Bill Wells,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
DJ Sneak,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.