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 Niger and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 organ 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 Kerri Chandler to the grime 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
The Flesh Eaters,
A Certain Ratio,
Flipper,
Johnny Clarke,
The United States of America,
Bill Wells,
Hasil Adkins,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
X-Ray Spex,
Barry Ungar,
Judy Mowatt,
The Remains,
Gang of Four,
Dawn Penn,
The Standells,
The Smoke,
Yazoo,
Heaven 17,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bootsy Collins,
Hoover,
UT,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Steve Hackett,
The Doors,
Loose Ends,
Skarface,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fela Kuti,
The Five Americans,
Dual Sessions,
Marshall Jefferson,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kayak,
Terry Callier,
Joe Finger,
Dorothy Ashby,
Silicon Teens,
Lyres,
Ronan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Gories,
New York Dolls,
World's Most,
Whodini,
Jawbox,
Maurizio,
Archie Shepp,
Soft Cell,
The Star Department,
Scan 7,
Brick,
Kas Product,
Bush Tetras,
The Invisible,
T.S.O.L.,
Eric Dolphy,
FM Einheit,
Severed Heads,
Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc..
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.