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 Moldova and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 linndrum 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 Cal Tjader to the grunge 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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Aural Exciters,
Bush Tetras,
Wolf Eyes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Quando Quango,
The Five Americans,
Faraquet,
Black Pus,
Fad Gadget,
The Raincoats,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Count Five,
Shoche,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Harry Pussy,
Drexciya,
The New Christs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nas,
The Vogues,
China Crisis,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Excepter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ponytail,
Surgeon,
Intrusion,
Aloha Tigers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cybotron,
The Last Poets,
Skaos,
DNA,
Maurizio,
Kevin Saunderson,
Monolake,
Anthony Braxton,
Buzzcocks,
The Techniques,
Au Pairs,
The Saints,
Theoretical Girls,
Eden Ahbez,
Kayak,
Talk Talk,
The Pretty Things,
Hot Snakes,
Roy Ayers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rites of Spring,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Dead C,
Terry Callier,
Mission of Burma,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.