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 Lithuania and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 John Lydon to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Bluetip,
Royal Trux,
Tomorrow,
The Real Kids,
DJ Sneak,
Throbbing Gristle,
Liliput,
Warsaw,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scott Walker,
Robert Görl,
Idris Muhammad,
Das Ding,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Minutemen,
The Divine Comedy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Junior Murvin,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pussy Galore,
Lalann,
Brothers Johnson,
Soft Machine,
Todd Rundgren,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Fear,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bad Manners,
June of 44,
The Smoke,
the Association,
Piero Umiliani,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Quadrant,
Basic Channel,
Grey Daturas,
Byron Stingily,
the Swans,
The Invisible,
The Fugs,
The Mojo Men,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Masters at Work,
Whodini,
The Busters,
Sister Nancy,
Model 500,
Nils Olav,
Alphaville,
Babytalk,
Altered Images,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Livin' Joy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Minny Pops,
R.M.O.,
Blossom Toes,
U.S. Maple,
Ten City,
Pole,
Interpol,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.