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 New Zealand and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Duran Duran to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
FM Einheit,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fire Engines,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Siglo XX,
Malaria!,
One Last Wish,
Grauzone,
Michelle Simonal,
Visage,
Albert Ayler,
the Sonics,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Leonard Cohen,
Gang Green,
Swans,
The Fuzztones,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Soft Cell,
The Misunderstood,
Sound Behaviour,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mark Hollis,
Kenny Larkin,
Ultra Naté,
Ice-T,
Bauhaus,
The Seeds,
Bill Near,
Scott Walker,
Dennis Brown,
Slave,
Technova,
The Trojans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minutemen,
Carl Craig,
Jesper Dahlback,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fugazi,
Heaven 17,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Peter and Kerry,
the Normal,
The Black Dice,
Metal Thangz,
Mo-Dettes,
Avey Tare,
Terry Callier,
The Invisible,
L. Decosne,
Tears for Fears,
Brick,
Crime,
Eve St. Jones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Delta 5,
The Move,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.