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 Zambia and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare 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 L. Decosne to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marshall Jefferson,
Cluster,
The Move,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Slits,
Fela Kuti,
Ossler,
LL Cool J,
Joensuu 1685,
FM Einheit,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Gun Club,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gil Scott Heron,
Faraquet,
AZ,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Glenn Branca,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Andrew Hill,
Cybotron,
Eve St. Jones,
a-ha,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nils Olav,
The New Christs,
Theoretical Girls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Graham Central Station,
The Human League,
Camouflage,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Joyce Sims,
Black Moon,
Fugazi,
Minnie Riperton,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ronan,
Tears for Fears,
Erasure,
Colin Newman,
Subhumans,
The Stooges,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Judy Mowatt,
Cameo,
Pussy Galore,
PIL,
Dead Boys,
Carl Craig,
The Count Five,
Goldenarms,
Spoonie Gee,
Popol Vuh,
Alice Coltrane,
The Sonics,
Wings,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.