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 Tanzania and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the dance 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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mr. Review,
the Slits,
Oneida,
Bobby Sherman,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
F. McDonald,
a-ha,
Pantytec,
Scan 7,
Matthew Halsall,
Nico,
Cluster,
The American Breed,
The Fuzztones,
Buzzcocks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Deakin,
The Standells,
Sound Behaviour,
Aural Exciters,
Prince Buster,
Scratch Acid,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Stiv Bators,
The Smoke,
Lower 48,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Fatback Band,
Vladislav Delay,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rapeman,
Rites of Spring,
Desert Stars,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
Pussy Galore,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Newcleus,
Soft Cell,
Main Source,
The Red Krayola,
Camouflage,
Franke,
Negative Approach,
Delta 5,
Clear Light,
The Martian,
Lou Christie,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Velvet Underground,
Gabor Szabo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lalann,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.