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 Tonga and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Motorama to the punk 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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
CMW,
Fela Kuti,
Neil Young,
Aloha Tigers,
Isaac Hayes,
Sarah Menescal,
Symarip,
Organ,
David Bowie,
Maleditus Sound,
the Swans,
Joy Division,
The Names,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Harry Pussy,
Laurel Aitken,
The Evens,
Sound Behaviour,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sandy B,
Suicide,
Sixth Finger,
Janne Schatter,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Kinks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Shoche,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Can,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scion,
Icehouse,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Yaz,
Althea and Donna,
E-Dancer,
The Pop Group,
OOIOO,
Bronski Beat,
Popol Vuh,
ABBA,
Mantronix,
Liliput,
Soul Sonic Force,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Dave Gahan,
Fad Gadget,
Black Moon,
Aaron Thompson,
Joyce Sims,
The Monks,
Lakeside,
The Alarm Clocks,
Robert Görl,
Soft Machine,
Joensuu 1685,
The Gun Club,
MC5,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.