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 London.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the techno 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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
John Coltrane,
Minnie Riperton,
Ken Boothe,
Subhumans,
Television,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gladiators,
Barbara Tucker,
Lalann,
Model 500,
The Five Americans,
Curtis Mayfield,
Hashim,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mr. Review,
Reagan Youth,
Audionom,
Roger Hodgson,
Blake Baxter,
Cymande,
Juan Atkins,
The American Breed,
Trumans Water,
The Doors,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Groovy Waters,
Tim Buckley,
Scrapy,
X-101,
Deepchord,
Rod Modell,
The Kinks,
T. Rex,
Visage,
The Associates,
The Zeros,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Soft Machine,
The Music Machine,
PIL,
Icehouse,
Scan 7,
Sixth Finger,
Sparks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fatback Band,
The Cure,
Joe Finger,
Big Daddy Kane,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pulsallama,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Cheater Slicks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Todd Rundgren,
Alton Ellis,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.