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 Micronesia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the grunge 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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Motions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Henry Cow,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pierre Henry,
Avey Tare,
The Trojans,
Lungfish,
Tim Buckley,
Bobby Byrd,
Simply Red,
Laurel Aitken,
Con Funk Shun,
Fluxion,
Arcadia,
Funkadelic,
The New Christs,
DNA,
Hardrive,
Cymande,
Easy Going,
Guru Guru,
Blake Baxter,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soulsonic Force,
Scrapy,
Juan Atkins,
E-Dancer,
Isaac Hayes,
Yellowson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Throbbing Gristle,
Khruangbin,
Model 500,
8 Eyed Spy,
Black Bananas,
Bobby Womack,
Pole,
Blancmange,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
James White and The Blacks,
Magma,
Drexciya,
The Residents,
48th St. Collective,
Eurythmics,
Theoretical Girls,
Harpers Bizarre,
Patti Smith,
Peter and Kerry,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Junior Murvin,
Neu!,
Eden Ahbez,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Suicide,
China Crisis,
Scan 7,
Radio Birdman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.