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 Congo and from Mexico City.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tehran.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Motorama,
ABBA,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Invisible,
Toni Rubio,
Eric B and Rakim,
David Axelrod,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Warren Ellis,
Mantronix,
Ponytail,
The Young Rascals,
CMW,
Con Funk Shun,
Hoover,
John Foxx,
Dawn Penn,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Television,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ornette Coleman,
Young Marble Giants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Y Pants,
Drive Like Jehu,
Alphaville,
A Certain Ratio,
Tears for Fears,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sandy B,
Nico,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marcia Griffiths,
Blossom Toes,
Mo-Dettes,
Morten Harket,
Derrick May,
Procol Harum,
Junior Murvin,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Todd Terry,
Jesper Dahlback,
Thompson Twins,
DNA,
Sun City Girls,
U.S. Maple,
The Saints,
Can,
Yusef Lateef,
Kenny Larkin,
Tropical Tobacco,
Man Parrish,
Man Eating Sloth,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Joey Negro,
The Slackers,
Magazine,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.