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 Netherlands and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Absolute Body Control to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
Tim Buckley,
Mandrill,
The Pop Group,
Ronnie Foster,
Ken Boothe,
Bobby Womack,
Gang Starr,
The New Christs,
Idris Muhammad,
The Smiths,
Steve Hackett,
The Angels of Light,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soft Cell,
Iggy Pop,
Drexciya,
The Buckinghams,
Charles Mingus,
Pierre Henry,
Dark Day,
The Mummies,
Gabor Szabo,
Amon Düül,
Carl Craig,
The Flesh Eaters,
Chris Corsano,
Crash Course in Science,
Duran Duran,
Scion,
Jawbox,
Symarip,
Roy Ayers,
Visage,
Roxy Music,
Yellowson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Roger Hodgson,
Boz Scaggs,
R.M.O.,
Sister Nancy,
Ituana,
The Selecter,
Delta 5,
Eddi Front,
Rakim,
Au Pairs,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mo-Dettes,
10cc,
Excepter,
Girls At Our Best!,
Amon Düül II,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Derrick Morgan,
Barry Ungar,
Isaac Hayes,
Camouflage,
The Modern Lovers,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Fania All-Stars,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.