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 Saudi Arabia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Alice Coltrane to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
The Busters,
Bluetip,
Subhumans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mark Hollis,
Sam Rivers,
Intrusion,
Los Fastidios,
Hot Snakes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Angry Samoans,
Scan 7,
Spandau Ballet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
R.M.O.,
Groovy Waters,
Jeff Lynne,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Swell Maps,
The Seeds,
Shuggie Otis,
Glenn Branca,
Make Up,
Jerry's Kids,
Colin Newman,
Todd Rundgren,
The Remains,
Scrapy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Model 500,
Sonny Sharrock,
Vainqueur,
Monolake,
The Neon Judgement,
Gong,
Nas,
Interpol,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Pop Group,
Eli Mardock,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Youth Brigade,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Barry Ungar,
Masters at Work,
Japan,
Faraquet,
A Certain Ratio,
Pharoah Sanders,
Reuben Wilson,
Eurythmics,
Blossom Toes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Heaven 17,
Desert Stars,
Au Pairs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Suburban Knight,
Sun Ra,
The Slackers,
Aswad,
One Last Wish,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.