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 Estonia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 synthesizer 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the crunk 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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Camouflage,
The Moody Blues,
Public Enemy,
Grey Daturas,
Grandmaster Flash,
La Düsseldorf,
Kerri Chandler,
Jawbox,
Dennis Brown,
The Motions,
Monks,
LL Cool J,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Moon,
Y Pants,
Soft Machine,
H. Thieme,
Skarface,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gang Green,
Lyres,
Cecil Taylor,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Last Poets,
UT,
Moebius,
The Saints,
Pere Ubu,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Audionom,
Gang of Four,
Kayak,
Jeff Mills,
Ultimate Spinach,
Magma,
Q and Not U,
Electric Prunes,
Yellowson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
R.M.O.,
The Offenders,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Thee Headcoats,
Aural Exciters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Barrington Levy,
Quantec,
Adolescents,
Radiohead,
Kaleidoscope,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Amazonics,
KRS-One,
Franke,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.