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 Malawi and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Holger Czukay 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 Suburban Knight to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Pussy Galore,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tubeway Army,
The Last Poets,
Eli Mardock,
Fat Boys,
Rekid,
Dead Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
Silicon Teens,
The Knickerbockers,
Hardrive,
Mission of Burma,
Sparks,
Darondo,
Parry Music,
Ossler,
Grandmaster Flash,
Todd Terry,
Rapeman,
Gregory Isaacs,
Warsaw,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Graham Central Station,
Robert Görl,
Stetsasonic,
Patti Smith,
T.S.O.L.,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Alison Limerick,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Donny Hathaway,
Loose Ends,
Liliput,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Trojans,
Scrapy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Connie Case,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Litter,
Guru Guru,
Ten City,
Soft Cell,
John Holt,
Section 25,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Standells,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Flag,
Siglo XX,
Minny Pops,
The Fall,
Lebanon Hanover,
New Age Steppers,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.