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 Ecuador and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Woodstock.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sixth Finger to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Barbara Tucker,
EPMD,
Wolf Eyes,
Joe Smooth,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Patti Smith,
Procol Harum,
Minnie Riperton,
The Seeds,
The Doors,
The Alarm Clocks,
Amon Düül II,
Mr. Review,
The New Christs,
Ituana,
The Human League,
AZ,
Gil Scott Heron,
New York Dolls,
The Victims,
Main Source,
Rufus Thomas,
Byron Stingily,
Peter & Gordon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Big Daddy Kane,
10cc,
One Last Wish,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lou Christie,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Velvet Underground,
Faust,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wings,
Minutemen,
Dave Gahan,
Todd Rundgren,
Severed Heads,
Yellowson,
The Names,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Don Cherry,
The Blackbyrds,
Erasure,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Warsaw,
Average White Band,
the Bar-Kays,
The Black Dice,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Guru Guru,
Grey Daturas,
Man Parrish,
Sun Ra,
Terry Callier,
Little Man,
Judy Mowatt,
Hashim,
Eric Dolphy,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.