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 Portugal and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bobby Womack,
Juan Atkins,
Excepter,
Avey Tare,
Dark Day,
Laurel Aitken,
Michelle Simonal,
Severed Heads,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ken Boothe,
Man Parrish,
Joey Negro,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Vogues,
Infiniti,
Fad Gadget,
China Crisis,
Todd Rundgren,
Mary Jane Girls,
Shuggie Otis,
LL Cool J,
The Monks,
Joe Smooth,
R.M.O.,
Fugazi,
Blake Baxter,
Marvin Gaye,
the Swans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fear,
Arthur Verocai,
Royal Trux,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Remains,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sixth Finger,
Byron Stingily,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Index,
the Bar-Kays,
Nation of Ulysses,
Swell Maps,
Harry Pussy,
Eric Copeland,
Soul Sonic Force,
Robert Görl,
Masters at Work,
Scrapy,
Cluster,
Arcadia,
The Barracudas,
Radio Birdman,
Stereo Dub,
Yazoo,
Skriet,
CMW,
X-102,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.