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 Bolivia and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mr. Review to the techno 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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
B.T. Express,
Harpers Bizarre,
Con Funk Shun,
Malaria!,
Brick,
the Bar-Kays,
Chrome,
Black Bananas,
kango's stein massive,
A Certain Ratio,
Public Image Ltd.,
John Lydon,
The Toasters,
Rotary Connection,
The Techniques,
Roy Ayers,
cv313,
Hoover,
June of 44,
X-Ray Spex,
Isaac Hayes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Angry Samoans,
Scott Walker,
Hardrive,
Derrick Morgan,
Urselle,
The Divine Comedy,
Q65,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bill Wells,
The Monochrome Set,
Eli Mardock,
Donald Byrd,
Johnny Clarke,
Severed Heads,
The Red Krayola,
Young Marble Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Absolute Body Control,
Moss Icon,
The Fuzztones,
Yaz,
Bobby Womack,
Interpol,
The Seeds,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Real Kids,
The Busters,
La Düsseldorf,
Deakin,
Bobby Byrd,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jeff Mills,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.