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 Kenya and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rufus Thomas to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Qualms,
Magma,
The Fire Engines,
Lalann,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Judy Mowatt,
KRS-One,
Faraquet,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Circle Jerks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Normal,
Scientists,
Piero Umiliani,
New Age Steppers,
The Slackers,
E-Dancer,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Pus,
cv313,
T. Rex,
Chris & Cosey,
Negative Approach,
The Monks,
Soulsonic Force,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Babytalk,
Morten Harket,
Peter and Kerry,
Tres Demented,
Idris Muhammad,
David McCallum,
Dead Boys,
Simply Red,
Jacques Brel,
Junior Murvin,
The Cure,
Mary Jane Girls,
Graham Central Station,
Todd Terry,
Jeru the Damaja,
Barclay James Harvest,
Magazine,
Slick Rick,
Bootsy Collins,
Anthony Braxton,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Residents,
Essential Logic,
Agitation Free,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pantytec,
The Golliwogs,
The Evens,
Bobby Womack,
Intrusion,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.