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 Russia and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Thee Headcoats to the techno 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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lower 48 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Rakim,
Kurtis Blow,
Popol Vuh,
Boz Scaggs,
The Black Dice,
The Monks,
The American Breed,
Depeche Mode,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Happenings,
Graham Central Station,
Brand Nubian,
Moss Icon,
Masters at Work,
Sun Ra,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Livin' Joy,
Aural Exciters,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roxette,
Metal Thangz,
Mad Mike,
The Martian,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sex Pistols,
The Durutti Column,
Drive Like Jehu,
Anthony Braxton,
Organ,
Sonic Youth,
Average White Band,
Drexciya,
Erasure,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The New Christs,
Delta 5,
Siglo XX,
Bad Manners,
Byron Stingily,
Mission of Burma,
Pussy Galore,
Josef K,
Kas Product,
Moebius,
Hasil Adkins,
Goldenarms,
Au Pairs,
Rekid,
Harmonia,
Technova,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jeff Mills,
Eric Dolphy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Easy Going,
Ponytail,
The Fire Engines,
Matthew Halsall,
The Monochrome Set,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.