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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Theoretical Girls to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Interpol,
UT,
The Doors,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tubeway Army,
The Cure,
the Germs,
Malaria!,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Offenders,
L. Decosne,
The Star Department,
Index,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Seeds,
Jimmy McGriff,
Moss Icon,
Hardrive,
The Divine Comedy,
Yazoo,
Ronan,
The Fall,
Organ,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Holt,
Con Funk Shun,
Blake Baxter,
The Real Kids,
The Evens,
Prince Buster,
Idris Muhammad,
Moebius,
the Soft Cell,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Make Up,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Average White Band,
Stiv Bators,
Outsiders,
Charles Mingus,
Minor Threat,
Scrapy,
Albert Ayler,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sun City Girls,
Zero Boys,
Grandmaster Flash,
Basic Channel,
Reagan Youth,
Barry Ungar,
Freddie Wadling,
Monolake,
Oneida,
Jawbox,
The Electric Prunes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Franke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.