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 Libya and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Jakarta.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Alarm Clocks to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
Bauhaus,
Joyce Sims,
Althea and Donna,
Prince Buster,
Suburban Knight,
Delta 5,
Bobby Sherman,
Interpol,
Charles Mingus,
Black Flag,
Gichy Dan,
Graham Central Station,
Kas Product,
Rites of Spring,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crispy Ambulance,
James White and The Blacks,
The Leaves,
Judy Mowatt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Golliwogs,
Wire,
the Association,
Stetsasonic,
Crooked Eye,
Livin' Joy,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lalann,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Yusef Lateef,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Swans,
The Moleskins,
Deadbeat,
Black Pus,
UT,
Gabor Szabo,
Lucky Dragons,
The Dead C,
Marc Almond,
Donny Hathaway,
Scratch Acid,
Blossom Toes,
The Fugs,
Alice Coltrane,
Deakin,
Sparks,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The New Christs,
Todd Rundgren,
Lakeside,
The Gories,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Stiv Bators,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.