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 Mexico and from Cairo.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 808 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 U.S. Maple to the jazz 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Lucky Dragons,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lower 48,
AZ,
Eurythmics,
Visage,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fela Kuti,
Harpers Bizarre,
Aural Exciters,
Robert Wyatt,
Kerrie Biddell,
EPMD,
These Immortal Souls,
Avey Tare,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Leonard Cohen,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scott Walker,
Underground Resistance,
Boogie Down Productions,
Das Ding,
Y Pants,
Marmalade,
Deakin,
H. Thieme,
Mo-Dettes,
Brand Nubian,
Derrick May,
Rotary Connection,
Bill Wells,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
kango's stein massive,
The Red Krayola,
Wasted Youth,
Joey Negro,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Henry Cow,
Yusef Lateef,
Saccharine Trust,
Arcadia,
The Standells,
The Selecter,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Charles Mingus,
Newcleus,
The Residents,
Joe Finger,
Erasure,
Curtis Mayfield,
Howard Jones,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barrington Levy,
Joensuu 1685,
Radio Birdman,
Ultravox,
Throbbing Gristle,
Vladislav Delay,
the Human League,
The Names,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.