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 Sweden and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Shanghai.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Byron Stingily to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Move. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roger Hodgson,
The Monks,
Gichy Dan,
Nils Olav,
The Saints,
Nick Fraelich,
Sonny Sharrock,
Crispian St. Peters,
Stetsasonic,
Alice Coltrane,
In Retrospect,
Darondo,
John Foxx,
John Cale,
Stiv Bators,
The Selecter,
Scientists,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scan 7,
Unrelated Segments,
Royal Trux,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ronan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Danielle Patucci,
H. Thieme,
Maleditus Sound,
Amon Düül,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Chris & Cosey,
Niagra,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rotary Connection,
Eddi Front,
John Holt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pagans,
Fat Boys,
Procol Harum,
Scratch Acid,
Barrington Levy,
Byron Stingily,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ultra Naté,
La Düsseldorf,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Glenn Branca,
Aswad,
Sly & The Family Stone,
James White and The Blacks,
Swans,
Lyres,
Country Teasers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Frankie Knuckles,
Essential Logic,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.