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 Saudi Arabia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 arpeggiator 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the dance 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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon 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 theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
James White and The Blacks,
Brand Nubian,
Wolf Eyes,
The Residents,
Organ,
Fluxion,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fuzztones,
Pantytec,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Swans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minnie Riperton,
Scion,
Matthew Halsall,
Black Flag,
Urselle,
Nas,
Terry Callier,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Moby Grape,
The Martian,
LL Cool J,
B.T. Express,
Chris Corsano,
Eve St. Jones,
the Slits,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobby Byrd,
Qualms,
Donny Hathaway,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Popol Vuh,
Skaos,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wings,
Boz Scaggs,
Crooked Eye,
Slave,
Saccharine Trust,
ABC,
The Fugs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ponytail,
Kool Moe Dee,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Q and Not U,
Amazonics,
Public Enemy,
the Bar-Kays,
T. Rex,
The Alarm Clocks,
Anthony Braxton,
Panda Bear,
Toni Rubio,
Tears for Fears,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.