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 Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Man Eating Sloth to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus 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 rock 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Roxette,
Todd Terry,
John Lydon,
New Order,
World's Most,
Popol Vuh,
Prince Buster,
Roy Ayers,
Bill Near,
Fugazi,
Interpol,
Mo-Dettes,
the Sonics,
X-102,
Circle Jerks,
Archie Shepp,
Aural Exciters,
Siglo XX,
Neu!,
Gerry Rafferty,
Urselle,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eli Mardock,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Agitation Free,
Wire,
Fat Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marc Almond,
The United States of America,
Nik Kershaw,
Suburban Knight,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gong,
Kaleidoscope,
Swell Maps,
Mary Jane Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bootsy Collins,
Fela Kuti,
Dual Sessions,
The Seeds,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fire Engines,
Zero Boys,
Juan Atkins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Durutti Column,
Michelle Simonal,
Mad Mike,
Main Source,
Unrelated Segments,
Ludus,
Eurythmics,
Soul Sonic Force,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.