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 Andorra and from Houston.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Neon Judgement to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
Radio Birdman,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Roxette,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Avey Tare,
Grey Daturas,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dave Gahan,
Steve Hackett,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Warren Ellis,
Accadde A,
Barry Ungar,
These Immortal Souls,
Robert Görl,
Khruangbin,
Vladislav Delay,
The American Breed,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Alison Limerick,
Skriet,
The Victims,
Oneida,
Section 25,
Kurtis Blow,
The Doors,
Moby Grape,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marine Girls,
Magazine,
Rufus Thomas,
Goldenarms,
Gregory Isaacs,
Blossom Toes,
AZ,
The Monks,
The Toasters,
Scrapy,
Jeff Lynne,
Soulsonic Force,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Knickerbockers,
The Tremeloes,
Brass Construction,
Camberwell Now,
Ituana,
Scan 7,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mr. Review,
LL Cool J,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Loose Ends,
L. Decosne,
The Dirtbombs,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Divine Comedy,
Aural Exciters,
Suburban Knight,
Bluetip,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Angry Samoans,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.