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 Slovakia and from Delhi.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Adolescents to the funk 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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Davy DMX,
The Blues Magoos,
Glenn Branca,
Rod Modell,
Marshall Jefferson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fela Kuti,
Cal Tjader,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wings,
The Pop Group,
Ken Boothe,
The Human League,
Gang Green,
The Fire Engines,
The Divine Comedy,
Letta Mbulu,
Harry Pussy,
Lightning Bolt,
The Victims,
Metal Thangz,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Slits,
The Blackbyrds,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Electric Prunes,
Negative Approach,
The Red Krayola,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Yellowson,
Trumans Water,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aloha Tigers,
Japan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Al Stewart,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Chrome,
Aaron Thompson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Second Layer,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Animal Collective,
Saccharine Trust,
Spoonie Gee,
Kaleidoscope,
Darondo,
Dennis Brown,
Wolf Eyes,
John Coltrane,
Arab on Radar,
Matthew Halsall,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pussy Galore,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Andrew Hill,
Jeff Mills,
The Residents,
Sun City Girls,
The Skatalites,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.