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 Grenada and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Essential Logic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Essential Logic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Rites of Spring,
Fear,
Cluster,
The Invisible,
Shuggie Otis,
The Residents,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Motions,
The Angels of Light,
Roxy Music,
Cymande,
Joe Finger,
Ronnie Foster,
Cecil Taylor,
Delta 5,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scratch Acid,
Graham Central Station,
The Busters,
Qualms,
The Detroit Cobras,
Slave,
Tropical Tobacco,
Vladislav Delay,
Scion,
The Names,
The Toasters,
Symarip,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nico,
Ossler,
Roxette,
Spoonie Gee,
The Star Department,
Pulsallama,
Radio Birdman,
The Searchers,
The Human League,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Spandau Ballet,
Urselle,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Byrd,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lee Hazlewood,
Laurel Aitken,
Sam Rivers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Excepter,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Tremeloes,
The Durutti Column,
Nils Olav,
ABC,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pere Ubu,
Yusef Lateef,
Kenny Larkin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nas,
The Birthday Party,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.