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 Austria and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Man Eating Sloth to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Dual Sessions,
10cc,
The Mojo Men,
The Gladiators,
Harry Pussy,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Byrd,
Iggy Pop,
Letta Mbulu,
Thee Headcoats,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sonic Youth,
The Stooges,
Matthew Halsall,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Ronan,
Marvin Gaye,
Chris Corsano,
Erasure,
Howard Jones,
Aswad,
Bill Wells,
Avey Tare,
The Cure,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kas Product,
Lee Hazlewood,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Infiniti,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Don Cherry,
Silicon Teens,
The Skatalites,
Connie Case,
Leonard Cohen,
Rekid,
Graham Central Station,
Blancmange,
Masters at Work,
Mr. Review,
Aloha Tigers,
Sixth Finger,
Warren Ellis,
Alphaville,
Pussy Galore,
Davy DMX,
Lyres,
Khruangbin,
Suburban Knight,
Anthony Braxton,
The Smoke,
Niagra,
The Pretty Things,
Funky Four + One,
The Saints,
Bronski Beat,
Nas,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.