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 Gambia and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Cecil Taylor to the dance 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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock 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?
Dawn Penn,
Minor Threat,
Circle Jerks,
Stiv Bators,
EPMD,
Kaleidoscope,
Anthony Braxton,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Electric Prunes,
The Walker Brothers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Little Man,
John Coltrane,
Tubeway Army,
The Monochrome Set,
The Five Americans,
Wire,
One Last Wish,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brothers Johnson,
Guru Guru,
Sam Rivers,
Minnie Riperton,
Josef K,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Stetsasonic,
Nirvana,
the Slits,
Wasted Youth,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sandy B,
Al Stewart,
Glenn Branca,
Jandek,
Cal Tjader,
The Fall,
Interpol,
Y Pants,
Animal Collective,
Public Enemy,
Harmonia,
Visage,
Dead Boys,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Aaron Thompson,
The Modern Lovers,
Donny Hathaway,
Von Mondo,
Mantronix,
The Red Krayola,
Eddi Front,
Sugar Minott,
Wally Richardson,
Pierre Henry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Underground Resistance,
Tommy Roe,
Make Up,
Heaven 17,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.