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 Burundi and from Halifax.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 La Düsseldorf to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Bad Manners,
Derrick May,
AZ,
Tommy Roe,
Moss Icon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brand Nubian,
Pantaleimon,
Sixth Finger,
The Last Poets,
Brass Construction,
Leonard Cohen,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pere Ubu,
Thee Headcoats,
Liliput,
Guru Guru,
Erasure,
The Walker Brothers,
Pulsallama,
The Busters,
Tubeway Army,
Boz Scaggs,
Dennis Brown,
Motorama,
Echospace,
Eden Ahbez,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Stooges,
CMW,
June of 44,
John Coltrane,
Cecil Taylor,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Electric Prunes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Blossom Toes,
The Fugs,
Roger Hodgson,
These Immortal Souls,
Pantytec,
Scott Walker,
Maleditus Sound,
Reagan Youth,
Patti Smith,
The Alarm Clocks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bluetip,
E-Dancer,
The Invisible,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Cameo,
Slick Rick,
Massinfluence,
Juan Atkins,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Soft Cell,
Danielle Patucci,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roxette,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.