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 Swaziland and from Spokane.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Funky Four + One to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Black Sheep,
Hoover,
Black Moon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Icehouse,
Byron Stingily,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Mojo Men,
The Stooges,
The Monks,
Archie Shepp,
Darondo,
The Residents,
Laurel Aitken,
Gregory Isaacs,
Monks,
Althea and Donna,
Davy DMX,
The Electric Prunes,
Pantaleimon,
Fugazi,
June of 44,
Joey Negro,
The Five Americans,
H. Thieme,
Tears for Fears,
Negative Approach,
Scratch Acid,
the Swans,
Slave,
Soul II Soul,
Ultra Naté,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scrapy,
Scientists,
JFA,
Fat Boys,
Chris & Cosey,
The Gun Club,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Graham Central Station,
Stockholm Monsters,
Con Funk Shun,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Can,
The Young Rascals,
Marshall Jefferson,
Suicide,
Tubeway Army,
Underground Resistance,
Flash Fearless,
Lalo Schifrin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eric B and Rakim,
Amazonics,
Electric Prunes,
The Pop Group,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.