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 Solomon Islands and from Edmonton.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 oboe 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 The Fire Engines to the rock 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tubeway Army,
The Alarm Clocks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Sonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
Davy DMX,
The Young Rascals,
Kas Product,
Andrew Hill,
Black Pus,
Eddi Front,
B.T. Express,
The Birthday Party,
Bang On A Can,
X-101,
This Heat,
Guru Guru,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marc Almond,
Easy Going,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
June of 44,
Sarah Menescal,
Gerry Rafferty,
Josef K,
Gastr Del Sol,
China Crisis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Joe Finger,
Negative Approach,
The Motions,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sex Pistols,
Lalann,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Dirtbombs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pharoah Sanders,
Toni Rubio,
Country Teasers,
Ultravox,
Letta Mbulu,
Terrestrial Tones,
New York Dolls,
Harry Pussy,
Brothers Johnson,
Cymande,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pantaleimon,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Velvet Underground,
The Wake,
Slave,
Dave Gahan,
Hasil Adkins,
Angry Samoans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Scientists,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.