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 Burkina and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Flesh Eaters to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang of Four,
David Bowie,
John Holt,
Rosa Yemen,
Circle Jerks,
Audionom,
Connie Case,
Organ,
Judy Mowatt,
The American Breed,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Juan Atkins,
Das Ding,
Interpol,
Ituana,
Buzzcocks,
Kaleidoscope,
Don Cherry,
Junior Murvin,
Tommy Roe,
Brothers Johnson,
the Sonics,
Section 25,
The Walker Brothers,
Aaron Thompson,
Barry Ungar,
Animal Collective,
Yusef Lateef,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nico,
Monks,
Derrick Morgan,
Brand Nubian,
Arthur Verocai,
Deepchord,
The Divine Comedy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lakeside,
Anakelly,
FM Einheit,
Eve St. Jones,
The Zeros,
Sun City Girls,
Skriet,
Mars,
Fatback Band,
This Heat,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jandek,
Frankie Knuckles,
Quadrant,
Rufus Thomas,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pussy Galore,
Yazoo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sarah Menescal,
The Grass Roots,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.