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 Cuba and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Shanghai.
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 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Severed Heads to the funk 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harmonia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lucky Dragons,
Iggy Pop,
Tubeway Army,
Alphaville,
Dark Day,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eurythmics,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ice-T,
The Saints,
Derrick May,
The Remains,
The Blackbyrds,
Roger Hodgson,
Funkadelic,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pagans,
Joensuu 1685,
Mandrill,
Steve Hackett,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Blues Magoos,
Juan Atkins,
Connie Case,
Mr. Review,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Con Funk Shun,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Black Flag,
Slick Rick,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Carl Craig,
Suicide,
Das Ding,
Crime,
Kayak,
Clear Light,
U.S. Maple,
Sonic Youth,
Roxette,
Essential Logic,
Scott Walker,
Massinfluence,
the Slits,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gabor Szabo,
Joe Finger,
Charles Mingus,
LL Cool J,
Chrome,
Deakin,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.