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 Sierra Leone and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 harpsichord 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 Gastr Del Sol to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
Jeff Mills,
Ponytail,
DNA,
Sonic Youth,
Monks,
kango's stein massive,
The Beau Brummels,
Hasil Adkins,
Susan Cadogan,
The Evens,
The Fortunes,
Joensuu 1685,
These Immortal Souls,
Leonard Cohen,
The Dirtbombs,
Mad Mike,
The Barracudas,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Slits,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
R.M.O.,
Darondo,
Stetsasonic,
Sex Pistols,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Cramps,
Hardrive,
Public Image Ltd.,
Prince Buster,
Sight & Sound,
Liliput,
Black Moon,
Supertramp,
The Martian,
Kevin Saunderson,
Laurel Aitken,
The Durutti Column,
Terry Callier,
Matthew Bourne,
Q65,
In Retrospect,
The Cure,
Lakeside,
The Gories,
KRS-One,
Pylon,
Smog,
DJ Style,
The Buckinghams,
Marc Almond,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barrington Levy,
Fela Kuti,
Bob Dylan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eric Copeland,
MDC,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.