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 Dominican Republic and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Davy DMX. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Sugar Minott,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mummies,
Minutemen,
Crash Course in Science,
OOIOO,
The Blackbyrds,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kevin Saunderson,
Alton Ellis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jeru the Damaja,
Y Pants,
Darondo,
Simply Red,
Royal Trux,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Erykah Badu,
Cameo,
Soulsonic Force,
Ponytail,
The Modern Lovers,
Eric Copeland,
Quando Quango,
UT,
Ultra Naté,
Blake Baxter,
Guru Guru,
Talk Talk,
Mark Hollis,
Scientists,
Kerrie Biddell,
Robert Görl,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Red Krayola,
Arthur Verocai,
Cecil Taylor,
Inner City,
Clear Light,
Surgeon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Slick Rick,
Niagra,
The Martian,
X-101,
Icehouse,
Bill Wells,
Soft Machine,
the Normal,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jacob Miller,
The Invisible,
The Offenders,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mary Jane Girls,
Idris Muhammad,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.