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 Iran and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Alarm Clocks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
Cybotron,
The J.B.'s,
The Seeds,
Graham Central Station,
the Slits,
Khruangbin,
Black Flag,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Neil Young,
Motorama,
The Cramps,
Eden Ahbez,
X-101,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Oblivians,
Glambeats Corp.,
Amon Düül,
The Five Americans,
Minnie Riperton,
Pagans,
Banda Bassotti,
Nick Fraelich,
The Buckinghams,
Junior Murvin,
The Star Department,
Y Pants,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Move,
Laurel Aitken,
Girls At Our Best!,
Scott Walker,
Supertramp,
Terry Callier,
Pere Ubu,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Todd Terry,
Rapeman,
Idris Muhammad,
Visage,
The Neon Judgement,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ossler,
The Selecter,
Henry Cow,
Siglo XX,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Subhumans,
Matthew Halsall,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ohio Players,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Robert Wyatt,
Dave Gahan,
Smog,
Buzzcocks,
Groovy Waters,
Anthony Braxton,
June of 44,
Bill Wells,
Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe.
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.