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 Palau and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Soft Machine to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
E-Dancer,
Gang Starr,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Misunderstood,
R.M.O.,
Kurtis Blow,
The Music Machine,
Q and Not U,
Frankie Knuckles,
Depeche Mode,
Suicide,
Dave Gahan,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crooked Eye,
One Last Wish,
Echospace,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Thee Headcoats,
Neu!,
Arcadia,
The Slits,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Danielle Patucci,
Charles Mingus,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Davy DMX,
Juan Atkins,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Seeds,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rakim,
Scion,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lalo Schifrin,
Interpol,
the Germs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Aural Exciters,
Severed Heads,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Procol Harum,
Sonny Sharrock,
Todd Terry,
The Black Dice,
The Moody Blues,
Sister Nancy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Joe Smooth,
Bad Manners,
Reuben Wilson,
Kaleidoscope,
Second Layer,
Yellowson,
Parry Music,
Heaven 17,
The Associates,
Erasure,
The Beau Brummels,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.