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 Israel and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Albert Ayler to the jazz 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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?
The Fire Engines,
Chrome,
The Offenders,
F. McDonald,
Popol Vuh,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Cowsills,
Con Funk Shun,
Bauhaus,
Easy Going,
Barbara Tucker,
Reuben Wilson,
Sugar Minott,
Bootsy Collins,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pharoah Sanders,
Surgeon,
The Selecter,
Rufus Thomas,
Juan Atkins,
Black Flag,
Cal Tjader,
Gang of Four,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cluster,
X-Ray Spex,
Janne Schatter,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Second Layer,
Sister Nancy,
Alton Ellis,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jeff Mills,
Kerri Chandler,
Soft Cell,
Icehouse,
The Blackbyrds,
The Saints,
B.T. Express,
The Tremeloes,
Yellowson,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Buckinghams,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Walker Brothers,
Sällskapet,
John Cale,
Youth Brigade,
X-101,
Cheater Slicks,
the Human League,
Little Man,
Jimmy McGriff,
Television,
Lower 48,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Names,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.