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 Malawi and from London.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Gun Club to the grunge 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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nils Olav,
LL Cool J,
Jawbox,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mandrill,
This Heat,
Fugazi,
Aswad,
Suburban Knight,
Gang Gang Dance,
Audionom,
June of 44,
Gastr Del Sol,
Letta Mbulu,
Jacob Miller,
Grey Daturas,
Pagans,
Siglo XX,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cramps,
Massinfluence,
Warren Ellis,
The Angels of Light,
Bill Near,
The Five Americans,
The Invisible,
Los Fastidios,
A Flock of Seagulls,
John Lydon,
Ten City,
Qualms,
Joy Division,
Tomorrow,
James Chance & The Contortions,
F. McDonald,
Q65,
Pantaleimon,
The United States of America,
The Searchers,
Ice-T,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jacques Brel,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sight & Sound,
Roger Hodgson,
Robert Görl,
Tom Boy,
B.T. Express,
Sarah Menescal,
Gichy Dan,
The Buckinghams,
Ken Boothe,
La Düsseldorf,
Pet Shop Boys,
Shuggie Otis,
Tropical Tobacco,
Quadrant,
Surgeon,
Avey Tare,
The Dirtbombs,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.