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 Oman and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 rhodes 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 Television Personalities to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Tears for Fears,
The Remains,
Pagans,
Half Japanese,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Move,
Marc Almond,
The Wake,
Organ,
Roy Ayers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
EPMD,
The Velvet Underground,
Rekid,
L. Decosne,
The Blackbyrds,
Blake Baxter,
Kerri Chandler,
Silicon Teens,
FM Einheit,
Laurel Aitken,
Letta Mbulu,
Slick Rick,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Flag,
The Shadows of Knight,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Mummies,
The Fortunes,
Public Enemy,
Duran Duran,
Lou Reed,
Radiohead,
Mantronix,
Angry Samoans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jawbox,
World's Most,
Robert Görl,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ludus,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rod Modell,
Pole,
Alton Ellis,
Essential Logic,
48th St. Collective,
The Gladiators,
Flipper,
The Cure,
Skriet,
The Fire Engines,
Alice Coltrane,
Q and Not U,
Gang of Four,
Nils Olav,
Amazonics,
Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt.
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.