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 Montenegro and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 New Age Steppers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Five Americans,
OOIOO,
MC5,
June Days,
Minor Threat,
X-102,
kango's stein massive,
Cheater Slicks,
U.S. Maple,
Livin' Joy,
Grauzone,
The Fuzztones,
Model 500,
This Heat,
The Martian,
Scott Walker,
Funkadelic,
Blancmange,
Andrew Hill,
Cameo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joyce Sims,
Harpers Bizarre,
Glenn Branca,
The Mojo Men,
Fluxion,
The Index,
Bronski Beat,
Camberwell Now,
Pierre Henry,
Swell Maps,
Pussy Galore,
Scientists,
Urselle,
Boredoms,
Eden Ahbez,
Jacob Miller,
Nation of Ulysses,
Au Pairs,
Isaac Hayes,
Nirvana,
Alice Coltrane,
Susan Cadogan,
Eve St. Jones,
Banda Bassotti,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Excepter,
Mad Mike,
Dorothy Ashby,
Faust,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Freddie Wadling,
Technova,
Severed Heads,
Rekid,
Animal Collective,
Outsiders,
H. Thieme,
Matthew Bourne,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.