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 United States and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Juan Atkins to the grime 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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rod Modell,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Trojans,
Eddi Front,
Quadrant,
Subhumans,
John Lydon,
Minor Threat,
The Monks,
Niagra,
E-Dancer,
kango's stein massive,
Lakeside,
Moss Icon,
Kerri Chandler,
H. Thieme,
Organ,
The Blues Magoos,
Maleditus Sound,
World's Most,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Moebius,
Dave Gahan,
The Skatalites,
Yaz,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nick Fraelich,
The J.B.'s,
Monks,
The Modern Lovers,
Hasil Adkins,
Sparks,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Victims,
UT,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sugar Minott,
Rekid,
Flash Fearless,
Amon Düül,
Reuben Wilson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kenny Larkin,
Pylon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bootsy Collins,
The Count Five,
Marc Almond,
Matthew Halsall,
Soft Machine,
Main Source,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Blancmange,
Crispy Ambulance,
Silicon Teens,
The Mummies,
Pagans,
Boredoms,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.