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 Iraq and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 snare 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Remains. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Graham Central Station,
The Saints,
Monolake,
Sex Pistols,
Gong,
Malaria!,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sandy B,
OOIOO,
Sound Behaviour,
D'Angelo,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Vogues,
Lindisfarne,
Blancmange,
Massinfluence,
Leonard Cohen,
The Slackers,
Pantytec,
Angry Samoans,
Byron Stingily,
Colin Newman,
Reuben Wilson,
Tom Boy,
Von Mondo,
Rosa Yemen,
The Birthday Party,
Ituana,
Cheater Slicks,
Second Layer,
Silicon Teens,
The Wake,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rites of Spring,
Prince Buster,
David McCallum,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Minor Threat,
The Music Machine,
Vainqueur,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Electric Prunes,
Soft Cell,
Roxy Music,
Ultimate Spinach,
Audionom,
Popol Vuh,
Lebanon Hanover,
Half Japanese,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lower 48,
Ponytail,
Surgeon,
Michelle Simonal,
Bootsy Collins,
Yaz,
Buzzcocks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse.
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.