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 Ecuador and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 snare 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fluxion. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Rotary Connection,
Cluster,
Colin Newman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pantaleimon,
The Five Americans,
Youth Brigade,
New Age Steppers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Cal Tjader,
Flipper,
Ronnie Foster,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Gories,
Byron Stingily,
Eddi Front,
Fatback Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Kaleidoscope,
Sight & Sound,
Hasil Adkins,
Radio Birdman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The J.B.'s,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Blues Magoos,
Visage,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cecil Taylor,
Mr. Review,
the Germs,
Brand Nubian,
The Dirtbombs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
ABC,
Intrusion,
Albert Ayler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Leaves,
the Slits,
Popol Vuh,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Harry Pussy,
Trumans Water,
Can,
Pole,
Khruangbin,
OOIOO,
Nils Olav,
The New Christs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mandrill,
Minutemen,
Scan 7,
Sound Behaviour,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gang Gang Dance,
Stetsasonic,
Buzzcocks,
Easy Going,
Mars,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.