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 Madagascar and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 marimba 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 Slick Rick to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Groovy Waters,
Glenn Branca,
Blossom Toes,
The Misunderstood,
B.T. Express,
Barclay James Harvest,
Matthew Halsall,
Spandau Ballet,
Agitation Free,
The Blackbyrds,
Alison Limerick,
Technova,
EPMD,
the Bar-Kays,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Pretty Things,
Second Layer,
Soft Machine,
Wolf Eyes,
The Barracudas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
This Heat,
Moss Icon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Morten Harket,
Barrington Levy,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Fania All-Stars,
Icehouse,
Max Romeo,
June Days,
Marc Almond,
CMW,
Royal Trux,
Monolake,
Josef K,
Judy Mowatt,
Reuben Wilson,
Eddi Front,
H. Thieme,
The Doors,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gong,
Accadde A,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mission of Burma,
Angry Samoans,
Amon Düül II,
Mantronix,
Sparks,
Mars,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Index,
The Residents,
Traffic Nightmare,
Junior Murvin,
Roxy Music,
Hot Snakes,
The Selecter,
Deepchord,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.