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 Czech Republic and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Depeche Mode 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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Circle Jerks,
Minutemen,
Fat Boys,
Erykah Badu,
Scott Walker,
Soft Machine,
The Searchers,
Glenn Branca,
The Knickerbockers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
James White and The Blacks,
Joe Finger,
The Angels of Light,
Blake Baxter,
Davy DMX,
Suburban Knight,
Slick Rick,
Bill Wells,
Johnny Clarke,
Aswad,
KRS-One,
The Moody Blues,
Mission of Burma,
Monks,
Max Romeo,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Clear Light,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Flash Fearless,
Tears for Fears,
Sixth Finger,
The Moleskins,
Zapp,
Morten Harket,
The Victims,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Modern Lovers,
Juan Atkins,
The Star Department,
48th St. Collective,
The Saints,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rekid,
Anakelly,
Big Daddy Kane,
Desert Stars,
Kas Product,
Kevin Saunderson,
Swans,
Camouflage,
The Real Kids,
Rufus Thomas,
The Smiths,
Duran Duran,
Goldenarms,
Brick,
Black Moon,
JFA,
DJ Sneak,
Franke,
Bob Dylan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.