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 Sudan and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 organ 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 Soulsonic Force to the disco 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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mo-Dettes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
New Age Steppers,
Livin' Joy,
Glenn Branca,
June of 44,
The Black Dice,
Man Parrish,
The Sound,
The Gun Club,
The Beau Brummels,
Wasted Youth,
Maleditus Sound,
Little Man,
Gang Gang Dance,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crooked Eye,
a-ha,
The Pop Group,
The Cowsills,
June Days,
Al Stewart,
Sarah Menescal,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Sheep,
Chris Corsano,
The Vogues,
In Retrospect,
AZ,
The American Breed,
Flash Fearless,
Scrapy,
The Raincoats,
Toni Rubio,
Suicide,
Shuggie Otis,
Motorama,
Tim Buckley,
Angry Samoans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Joe Smooth,
Can,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bang On A Can,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eve St. Jones,
U.S. Maple,
Technova,
Connie Case,
Ten City,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Avey Tare,
The Martian,
The Busters,
MC5,
Gil Scott Heron,
Masters at Work,
Stetsasonic,
Mark Hollis,
Bobby Byrd,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.