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 Kiribati and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Lyon and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 DJ Sneak to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Sonics,
Simply Red,
Lindisfarne,
The Leaves,
Andrew Hill,
Make Up,
Flipper,
Warsaw,
Mission of Burma,
Boz Scaggs,
Moby Grape,
Shuggie Otis,
The Mojo Men,
Pet Shop Boys,
Boredoms,
MDC,
Quantec,
Black Pus,
Michelle Simonal,
Minny Pops,
Saccharine Trust,
Ronnie Foster,
The Five Americans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Stiv Bators,
Faraquet,
Minutemen,
Cybotron,
Panda Bear,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bang On A Can,
Rufus Thomas,
The Offenders,
Throbbing Gristle,
Aswad,
Jeff Lynne,
Q and Not U,
Monks,
Symarip,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Main Source,
Roy Ayers,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Holt,
Sandy B,
Trumans Water,
Man Parrish,
Arcadia,
Kaleidoscope,
Jeru the Damaja,
Groovy Waters,
Robert Hood,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sex Pistols,
Khruangbin,
Robert Görl,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bobby Sherman,
Cheater Slicks,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.