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 Kosovo and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Offenders to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
The Velvet Underground,
Reuben Wilson,
Pussy Galore,
Goldenarms,
The Red Krayola,
Dark Day,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Flamin' Groovies,
Arthur Verocai,
AZ,
Ludus,
Skarface,
Banda Bassotti,
Animal Collective,
Alton Ellis,
Toni Rubio,
Hoover,
David Bowie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Aural Exciters,
Loose Ends,
Audionom,
Popol Vuh,
Soft Cell,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Neil Young,
Outsiders,
Wolf Eyes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Stockholm Monsters,
Harmonia,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Offenders,
The J.B.'s,
Grauzone,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rhythm & Sound,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Quadrant,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fela Kuti,
David McCallum,
Babytalk,
Fugazi,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crash Course in Science,
Ossler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kenny Larkin,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Massinfluence,
Rufus Thomas,
8 Eyed Spy,
June of 44,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Swans,
Godley & Creme,
Deakin,
Althea and Donna,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.