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 Honduras and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 arpeggiator 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the funk 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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Dead Boys,
David Axelrod,
The Sound,
Yusef Lateef,
Moss Icon,
Bobby Sherman,
Arcadia,
Big Daddy Kane,
Drexciya,
Brick,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ken Boothe,
Tom Boy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Television,
U.S. Maple,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The New Christs,
A Certain Ratio,
The Raincoats,
Procol Harum,
Ponytail,
Agitation Free,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crooked Eye,
Section 25,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hardrive,
Khruangbin,
The Techniques,
The Buckinghams,
The Seeds,
The Detroit Cobras,
Zero Boys,
Henry Cow,
Nils Olav,
Sun City Girls,
Fad Gadget,
Todd Terry,
Anthony Braxton,
the Bar-Kays,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Electric Prunes,
Mark Hollis,
Scan 7,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eden Ahbez,
Spandau Ballet,
Marshall Jefferson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wire,
The Kinks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Drive Like Jehu,
Second Layer,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.