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 Kazakhstan and from Salvador.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Marine Girls to the rap 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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect 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 a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gerry Rafferty,
Porter Ricks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sun Ra,
Max Romeo,
Radio Birdman,
Icehouse,
B.T. Express,
Cecil Taylor,
Sonic Youth,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Saints,
Depeche Mode,
Japan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Swell Maps,
Adolescents,
Black Pus,
Rufus Thomas,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bob Dylan,
Sandy B,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sarah Menescal,
Stereo Dub,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Minor Threat,
Todd Rundgren,
Bootsy Collins,
Das Ding,
Neu!,
Funkadelic,
The Modern Lovers,
Patti Smith,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bang On A Can,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fugazi,
X-Ray Spex,
Maleditus Sound,
Aural Exciters,
The Count Five,
Andrew Hill,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Moebius,
Massinfluence,
Wire,
the Human League,
Soulsonic Force,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Franke,
Marvin Gaye,
John Cale,
Crime,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harry Pussy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Swans,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.