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 Equatorial Guinea and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 sitar 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 Matthew Bourne to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roxy Music,
Rod Modell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Subhumans,
Babytalk,
The Busters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Soft Cell,
Colin Newman,
Erykah Badu,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ultra Naté,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Porter Ricks,
Thompson Twins,
Sight & Sound,
Johnny Clarke,
Thee Headcoats,
Idris Muhammad,
Lightning Bolt,
Hardrive,
Mad Mike,
The Seeds,
Yellowson,
Peter and Kerry,
a-ha,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Cure,
Kevin Saunderson,
Steve Hackett,
Patti Smith,
Visage,
Dennis Brown,
The Slackers,
Infiniti,
The Cramps,
The Birthday Party,
Boogie Down Productions,
Stiv Bators,
PIL,
Crooked Eye,
LL Cool J,
Pole,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Dirtbombs,
Masters at Work,
Gabor Szabo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Black Moon,
The Toasters,
Aaron Thompson,
The Walker Brothers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nirvana,
Kerri Chandler,
Tim Buckley,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kurtis Blow,
Dead Boys,
Blake Baxter,
Henry Cow,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.