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 Korea North and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Captain Beefheart 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 grunge 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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Gastr Del Sol,
Moby Grape,
The Birthday Party,
Crispy Ambulance,
Excepter,
Angry Samoans,
Tim Buckley,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Slackers,
Wire,
These Immortal Souls,
David Axelrod,
Bobby Sherman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pagans,
Soulsonic Force,
Judy Mowatt,
Jeru the Damaja,
Danielle Patucci,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alison Limerick,
Ohio Players,
Tommy Roe,
The Smoke,
Yazoo,
Eden Ahbez,
Ossler,
Flipper,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Angels of Light,
Henry Cow,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tropical Tobacco,
Thompson Twins,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Mojo Men,
Harry Pussy,
John Foxx,
Model 500,
Sarah Menescal,
Au Pairs,
Pussy Galore,
Magazine,
Matthew Halsall,
The Residents,
Matthew Bourne,
Nico,
Roger Hodgson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Severed Heads,
The Dead C,
Kerrie Biddell,
Chris & Cosey,
the Sonics,
Joey Negro,
MDC,
Banda Bassotti,
kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive.
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.