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 Uganda and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bang On A Can to the grunge 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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Dark Day,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Selecter,
Kurtis Blow,
Thee Headcoats,
DNA,
Fat Boys,
Juan Atkins,
Fatback Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Music Machine,
Archie Shepp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
F. McDonald,
Make Up,
Nik Kershaw,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Yaz,
Yusef Lateef,
Kevin Saunderson,
Black Pus,
Roxette,
L. Decosne,
The Searchers,
New Age Steppers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lou Reed,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Banda Bassotti,
Yazoo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
H. Thieme,
Boz Scaggs,
Adolescents,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Erasure,
Jeff Lynne,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eve St. Jones,
Laurel Aitken,
Bobby Byrd,
The Electric Prunes,
The Young Rascals,
La Düsseldorf,
John Foxx,
The Seeds,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pagans,
the Sonics,
The Shadows of Knight,
Reagan Youth,
Lindisfarne,
Harpers Bizarre,
China Crisis,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The J.B.'s,
Kool Moe Dee,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Sonics,
The Moleskins,
Scrapy,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.