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 Mongolia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 mellotron 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 48th St. Collective to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Blake Baxter,
Pantaleimon,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Laurel Aitken,
Skarface,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Count Five,
Wire,
The Monochrome Set,
The Birthday Party,
A Certain Ratio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kayak,
Soft Cell,
Black Moon,
Magma,
Sällskapet,
Bob Dylan,
Vladislav Delay,
Joe Finger,
Ponytail,
Freddie Wadling,
The Sound,
10cc,
James White and The Blacks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wolf Eyes,
The Martian,
Shuggie Otis,
B.T. Express,
Schoolly D,
Harry Pussy,
Kenny Larkin,
Eddi Front,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rapeman,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Television,
Chris Corsano,
Blossom Toes,
Donald Byrd,
The Moody Blues,
Angry Samoans,
Technova,
Warsaw,
kango's stein massive,
Cameo,
The Residents,
Barrington Levy,
Bobby Womack,
Glenn Branca,
Kas Product,
Tommy Roe,
Bronski Beat,
Harpers Bizarre,
Delta 5,
Yusef Lateef,
Derrick May,
Ultravox,
Mark Hollis,
Byron Stingily,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.