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 Saudi Arabia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 John Coltrane to the techno 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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
The Cure,
Au Pairs,
The Fire Engines,
Mars,
Excepter,
Joey Negro,
Stockholm Monsters,
Buzzcocks,
Heaven 17,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Toni Rubio,
Judy Mowatt,
Freddie Wadling,
The Barracudas,
Grauzone,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eddi Front,
Derrick Morgan,
Rhythm & Sound,
Reagan Youth,
Graham Central Station,
The Tremeloes,
Ronan,
The Names,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Echospace,
The Vogues,
Gang of Four,
Soft Machine,
Oneida,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Index,
World's Most,
The Young Rascals,
Gil Scott Heron,
David Axelrod,
Juan Atkins,
Bobby Sherman,
Drexciya,
Unrelated Segments,
Newcleus,
Scion,
Radio Birdman,
Alphaville,
Delta 5,
Joyce Sims,
The Fugs,
The Slits,
The New Christs,
Marine Girls,
Agitation Free,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Quadrant,
Amon Düül II,
Glenn Branca,
Man Parrish,
X-101,
Boogie Down Productions,
Arab on Radar,
The Happenings,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.