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 Ghana and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 guitar 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 DNA to the rock 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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals 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?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Warsaw,
The Evens,
The Knickerbockers,
The Move,
The Slits,
The Detroit Cobras,
Metal Thangz,
Lucky Dragons,
Lungfish,
Q65,
T. Rex,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Arthur Verocai,
Scientists,
Gregory Isaacs,
CMW,
ABC,
Peter and Kerry,
Funky Four + One,
Soft Machine,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Moon,
Tubeway Army,
Subhumans,
Blossom Toes,
Organ,
The Cure,
The Neon Judgement,
Sällskapet,
Blancmange,
The Slackers,
Fela Kuti,
Laurel Aitken,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Public Image Ltd.,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Association,
Wire,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Moby Grape,
Roy Ayers,
Electric Prunes,
The Martian,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Pierre Henry,
Hardrive,
Cameo,
The Red Krayola,
Grauzone,
Gong,
New Age Steppers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Spandau Ballet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Section 25,
Sister Nancy,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.