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 South Sudan and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pulsallama to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Harry Pussy,
Magma,
Joyce Sims,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Donald Byrd,
The Kinks,
Gichy Dan,
Pagans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Albert Ayler,
Los Fastidios,
DJ Sneak,
The Star Department,
Youth Brigade,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Visage,
Half Japanese,
The Stooges,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Dave Clark Five,
Carl Craig,
Todd Rundgren,
Eric Copeland,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pantytec,
Pylon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Slave,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eli Mardock,
The Leaves,
Young Marble Giants,
Oneida,
The Real Kids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Henry Cow,
Guru Guru,
Bush Tetras,
Goldenarms,
Nik Kershaw,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Sherman,
The Saints,
Chrome,
The Shadows of Knight,
Khruangbin,
Babytalk,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bob Dylan,
The Litter,
Black Sheep,
D'Angelo,
Soft Cell,
Brand Nubian,
Shuggie Otis,
the Slits,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ituana,
Ken Boothe,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.