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 Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 marimba 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
the Bar-Kays,
Tomorrow,
The Walker Brothers,
Pole,
Smog,
Marine Girls,
Fluxion,
Tropical Tobacco,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Khruangbin,
The Fire Engines,
Swans,
the Germs,
The Last Poets,
The Move,
Barrington Levy,
The Selecter,
FM Einheit,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Trumans Water,
Ohio Players,
Arab on Radar,
Yellowson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ponytail,
Sparks,
Quando Quango,
Visage,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Moleskins,
Janne Schatter,
DJ Sneak,
Fifty Foot Hose,
X-Ray Spex,
Arthur Verocai,
Flash Fearless,
Marshall Jefferson,
Theoretical Girls,
The Vogues,
The Young Rascals,
Anakelly,
The Gap Band,
Eric Copeland,
Tom Boy,
Ultra Naté,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Aswad,
Chrome,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Quantec,
Cecil Taylor,
Minny Pops,
E-Dancer,
Charles Mingus,
Dual Sessions,
Kayak,
Index,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jeff Mills,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.