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 Serbia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Supertramp to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Surgeon,
Urselle,
Scientists,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Boz Scaggs,
Gong,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Buckinghams,
Roy Ayers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Organ,
Bobby Byrd,
Smog,
Faraquet,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Neil Young,
ABC,
Colin Newman,
The Dirtbombs,
Liliput,
Laurel Aitken,
Grauzone,
Average White Band,
Public Enemy,
The Residents,
The Offenders,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ornette Coleman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bauhaus,
John Holt,
Jacques Brel,
The Knickerbockers,
Gang Starr,
Brothers Johnson,
Model 500,
The Sound,
Tommy Roe,
Cymande,
The Durutti Column,
Bush Tetras,
Sonic Youth,
Junior Murvin,
Carl Craig,
The Remains,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Archie Shepp,
Sister Nancy,
MDC,
Wally Richardson,
The Cowsills,
New Age Steppers,
Suburban Knight,
Radiohead,
Rhythm & Sound,
Das Ding,
Au Pairs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Minny Pops,
H. Thieme,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.