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 Germany and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Lungfish to the funk 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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?
Shuggie Otis,
The Alarm Clocks,
Radiohead,
Von Mondo,
The Moleskins,
Interpol,
Index,
The Fortunes,
Wolf Eyes,
Nils Olav,
Sonny Sharrock,
Girls At Our Best!,
John Cale,
The Residents,
Soul II Soul,
John Foxx,
Y Pants,
48th St. Collective,
Severed Heads,
Delta 5,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Fall,
Quando Quango,
Deadbeat,
Matthew Bourne,
Sugar Minott,
Bootsy Collins,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Victims,
Roxy Music,
the Swans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Names,
Pole,
Tomorrow,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sun Ra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jacob Miller,
Black Pus,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lakeside,
Dennis Brown,
Skarface,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jacques Brel,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Archie Shepp,
The Grass Roots,
The Kinks,
Adolescents,
Rapeman,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Gun Club,
Subhumans,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.