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 Dominica and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Angry Samoans to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Victims. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Cheater Slicks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rapeman,
The Grass Roots,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eden Ahbez,
June of 44,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Cramps,
The Wake,
Mr. Review,
Max Romeo,
Index,
Section 25,
CMW,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Altered Images,
Marmalade,
Das Ding,
The Offenders,
Tubeway Army,
Sonic Youth,
Negative Approach,
Ronan,
Technova,
Suburban Knight,
Nils Olav,
Khruangbin,
The Standells,
the Fania All-Stars,
Monks,
Grauzone,
The Gladiators,
Half Japanese,
Funky Four + One,
Eve St. Jones,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kevin Saunderson,
T. Rex,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Roger Hodgson,
Easy Going,
Minnie Riperton,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Cowsills,
Tomorrow,
The Durutti Column,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Names,
Erasure,
Amon Düül,
Kaleidoscope,
Connie Case,
The Skatalites,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Y Pants,
Theoretical Girls,
Gang Starr,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.