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 Kenya and from Woodstock.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Carl Craig to the techno 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
The Raincoats,
Oneida,
Jerry's Kids,
James White and The Blacks,
Inner City,
Rekid,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Au Pairs,
The Buckinghams,
UT,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Porter Ricks,
Bronski Beat,
Eric Copeland,
Arthur Verocai,
John Holt,
Dawn Penn,
Connie Case,
Zapp,
Gastr Del Sol,
The American Breed,
John Lydon,
Gang Starr,
Bad Manners,
Grandmaster Flash,
LL Cool J,
Slave,
Angry Samoans,
Kevin Saunderson,
June Days,
Byron Stingily,
Man Eating Sloth,
Iggy Pop,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Liliput,
Sam Rivers,
The Gun Club,
The Offenders,
Q65,
The Index,
the Association,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Glambeats Corp.,
Derrick May,
Stetsasonic,
Mo-Dettes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Goldenarms,
Yellowson,
Tim Buckley,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marmalade,
Soul Sonic Force,
Rotary Connection,
June of 44,
Thompson Twins,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Agent Orange,
Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag.
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.