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 Luxembourg and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 spring reverb 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 The Techniques to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
Tres Demented,
Drexciya,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Khruangbin,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Remains,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Tubeway Army,
Vainqueur,
Fluxion,
Ludus,
Main Source,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Agitation Free,
David Bowie,
Godley & Creme,
Surgeon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Motions,
Drive Like Jehu,
Piero Umiliani,
The Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Niagra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
kango's stein massive,
Brothers Johnson,
Kurtis Blow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Index,
Harpers Bizarre,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Wire,
Rites of Spring,
Accadde A,
Sandy B,
Faust,
Johnny Osbourne,
Big Daddy Kane,
E-Dancer,
Eden Ahbez,
Gil Scott Heron,
Groovy Waters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Evens,
Basic Channel,
Masters at Work,
Liliput,
Todd Rundgren,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
DJ Style,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Slits,
Carl Craig,
Cheater Slicks,
The Misunderstood,
Jandek,
Henry Cow,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.