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 Argentina and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
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 spring reverb 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 Hasil Adkins to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Smooth,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Detroit Cobras,
Japan,
June Days,
Visage,
Chris Corsano,
Sonic Youth,
John Holt,
Ten City,
X-102,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Sherman,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rhythm & Sound,
Saccharine Trust,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Sonics,
JFA,
Surgeon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Livin' Joy,
Ronan,
Das Ding,
Mary Jane Girls,
Idris Muhammad,
Tom Boy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Underground Resistance,
Robert Wyatt,
John Lydon,
Tres Demented,
Spandau Ballet,
Lindisfarne,
Section 25,
Rakim,
Gong,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
David Bowie,
The Human League,
Symarip,
Lightning Bolt,
Accadde A,
Make Up,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dark Day,
T. Rex,
Basic Channel,
Boredoms,
Harmonia,
Monks,
Bauhaus,
The Move,
Sarah Menescal,
Gang Green,
Outsiders,
Joyce Sims,
The Young Rascals,
Amon Düül,
The Velvet Underground,
Kenny Larkin,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.