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 Papua New Guinea and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 linndrum 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 X-102 to the jazz 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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Germs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
David Axelrod,
The Toasters,
Khruangbin,
The American Breed,
Sixth Finger,
The Buckinghams,
Fugazi,
Traffic Nightmare,
Slave,
X-102,
The Doobie Brothers,
K-Klass,
These Immortal Souls,
a-ha,
Ronnie Foster,
Television Personalities,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Monks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Germs,
Magma,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Man Parrish,
Harmonia,
Scion,
Vainqueur,
Flipper,
Goldenarms,
The Durutti Column,
The Offenders,
Faust,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sonic Youth,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Grass Roots,
Delta 5,
June of 44,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Dead C,
Alice Coltrane,
A Certain Ratio,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mark Hollis,
The Divine Comedy,
Juan Atkins,
Con Funk Shun,
Newcleus,
Bush Tetras,
The Names,
Moss Icon,
Judy Mowatt,
Lightning Bolt,
Aural Exciters,
The Star Department,
Amon Düül,
the Fania All-Stars,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.