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 United Kingdom and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 mellotron 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 FM Einheit to the jazz 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Mars,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tubeway Army,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ossler,
Deakin,
Grandmaster Flash,
World's Most,
Scion,
Althea and Donna,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mo-Dettes,
John Coltrane,
Accadde A,
K-Klass,
the Human League,
Los Fastidios,
The Index,
Technova,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Toasters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sex Pistols,
The Raincoats,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mission of Burma,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Leaves,
The Cramps,
Kurtis Blow,
Davy DMX,
Henry Cow,
the Germs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joey Negro,
Camberwell Now,
Bluetip,
Jesper Dahlback,
Anakelly,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ohio Players,
Al Stewart,
Cheater Slicks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Skarface,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bill Wells,
The Barracudas,
Eli Mardock,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Main Source,
Trumans Water,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The American Breed,
Subhumans,
Banda Bassotti,
Scrapy,
Eddi Front,
Ken Boothe,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.