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 Burkina and from Lagos.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum 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 David Bowie to the rock 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 The J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marvin Gaye,
Pierre Henry,
Arcadia,
Royal Trux,
Mars,
Slave,
Grey Daturas,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Electric Prunes,
The Martian,
Sex Pistols,
Barry Ungar,
Marshall Jefferson,
Los Fastidios,
Fad Gadget,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Erykah Badu,
Amazonics,
Yazoo,
Stetsasonic,
Angry Samoans,
The Tremeloes,
Aswad,
The Vogues,
Alison Limerick,
the Sonics,
Metal Thangz,
Drexciya,
Wire,
Nik Kershaw,
Arab on Radar,
Tears for Fears,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Zeros,
The Doobie Brothers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Infiniti,
Darondo,
the Swans,
The Smoke,
The Buckinghams,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Agitation Free,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Blues Magoos,
The Wake,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tubeway Army,
David Bowie,
Fear,
Roxette,
Silicon Teens,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minutemen,
Smog,
Grauzone,
Graham Central Station,
Derrick Morgan,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D.
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.