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 Kyrgyzstan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 linndrum 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Darondo,
Unrelated Segments,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The New Christs,
Pierre Henry,
The Martian,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Dawn Penn,
Gang Green,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The American Breed,
48th St. Collective,
Surgeon,
Underground Resistance,
The Raincoats,
the Germs,
Bush Tetras,
FM Einheit,
Porter Ricks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sex Pistols,
Todd Terry,
Maurizio,
Amazonics,
Slick Rick,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pulsallama,
Man Eating Sloth,
Skarface,
Jawbox,
Erasure,
The Monks,
Marc Almond,
Quantec,
The Divine Comedy,
Hot Snakes,
Soul II Soul,
CMW,
Sister Nancy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
X-101,
Rod Modell,
Schoolly D,
Inner City,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Smoke,
Robert Görl,
Danielle Patucci,
Country Joe & The Fish,
John Coltrane,
Ohio Players,
Yellowson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Harpers Bizarre,
Brass Construction,
Adolescents,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lee Hazlewood,
Todd Rundgren,
UT,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.