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 Switzerland and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro 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 Isaac Hayes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
The Fuzztones,
Mantronix,
Marmalade,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crime,
Kool Moe Dee,
UT,
The Seeds,
Idris Muhammad,
Goldenarms,
Scientists,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeru the Damaja,
Robert Görl,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Black Dice,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Joy Division,
Sex Pistols,
Eric B and Rakim,
Harmonia,
Robert Hood,
Soul II Soul,
Angry Samoans,
Quando Quango,
Pierre Henry,
R.M.O.,
Skarface,
Index,
Symarip,
Fear,
Rites of Spring,
Echospace,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pere Ubu,
Surgeon,
The Moody Blues,
Niagra,
K-Klass,
Iggy Pop,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Moebius,
Desert Stars,
Barry Ungar,
Nik Kershaw,
Das Ding,
Metal Thangz,
Blake Baxter,
Aaron Thompson,
In Retrospect,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
DNA,
Buzzcocks,
Yellowson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Half Japanese,
Depeche Mode,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Altered Images,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.