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 Bangladesh and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the rap 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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Hasil Adkins,
Al Stewart,
Cybotron,
Lucky Dragons,
Marvin Gaye,
The Victims,
Siglo XX,
Idris Muhammad,
Spoonie Gee,
The Tremeloes,
The Motions,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Niagra,
A Certain Ratio,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Electric Prunes,
Albert Ayler,
Quadrant,
Cheater Slicks,
Main Source,
Lower 48,
Yazoo,
Derrick Morgan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sun Ra,
Joey Negro,
Bronski Beat,
The Smiths,
Magazine,
Stereo Dub,
Kaleidoscope,
Pylon,
Skriet,
Barrington Levy,
Oblivians,
The Music Machine,
Clear Light,
Rapeman,
Man Parrish,
Fat Boys,
Graham Central Station,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Martian,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Inner City,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Faraquet,
Marmalade,
the Sonics,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Birthday Party,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Interpol,
The Remains,
The Index,
The Fuzztones,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band.
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.