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 Monaco and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Glasgow.
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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Fugs to the techno 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Boredoms,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Accadde A,
Cluster,
Minor Threat,
Funkadelic,
Aswad,
Brick,
Laurel Aitken,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nation of Ulysses,
Andrew Hill,
Radio Birdman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ituana,
Eve St. Jones,
John Holt,
Heaven 17,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Neil Young,
B.T. Express,
Pussy Galore,
Monolake,
Kerrie Biddell,
Index,
Mr. Review,
Jacques Brel,
Bill Near,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Groovy Waters,
The Blues Magoos,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Neon Judgement,
Wasted Youth,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alice Coltrane,
Robert Hood,
Visage,
Malaria!,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bobby Womack,
Blossom Toes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kurtis Blow,
Kayak,
Glenn Branca,
Deepchord,
D'Angelo,
Mandrill,
Arcadia,
Sugar Minott,
Ludus,
Popol Vuh,
Agent Orange,
Mantronix,
Silicon Teens,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.