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 Pakistan 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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rapeman to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
Glenn Branca,
Althea and Donna,
The Seeds,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Blues Magoos,
Sun City Girls,
Amazonics,
Joe Smooth,
The Wake,
The Grass Roots,
Babytalk,
Bobbi Humphrey,
U.S. Maple,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rekid,
Rapeman,
This Heat,
Malaria!,
Con Funk Shun,
Tim Buckley,
The Knickerbockers,
Ultra Naté,
Eurythmics,
Shuggie Otis,
Monolake,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Coltrane,
Agitation Free,
Bootsy Collins,
Pussy Galore,
Negative Approach,
Talk Talk,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Heaven 17,
Boz Scaggs,
Rites of Spring,
Eden Ahbez,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
H. Thieme,
Susan Cadogan,
Jeff Mills,
Marc Almond,
Arab on Radar,
Radio Birdman,
the Swans,
the Bar-Kays,
The United States of America,
Slick Rick,
Al Stewart,
The Dead C,
Loose Ends,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brand Nubian,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.