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 Somalia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eden Ahbez to the funk 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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
Tears for Fears,
Eddi Front,
Idris Muhammad,
Easy Going,
New Age Steppers,
Moebius,
The Vogues,
Max Romeo,
OOIOO,
Jeru the Damaja,
Joyce Sims,
Circle Jerks,
Soft Cell,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pantaleimon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Iggy Pop,
Archie Shepp,
Buzzcocks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Desert Stars,
The Evens,
Supertramp,
The Misunderstood,
Stetsasonic,
Mission of Burma,
Boz Scaggs,
Half Japanese,
Motorama,
Yellowson,
Crooked Eye,
The Names,
EPMD,
Country Teasers,
Pierre Henry,
The Doobie Brothers,
In Retrospect,
Don Cherry,
Pole,
U.S. Maple,
Colin Newman,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Litter,
Inner City,
Make Up,
Moss Icon,
The Wake,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Drexciya,
Fear,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Severed Heads,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ken Boothe,
the Normal,
Interpol,
Schoolly D,
Tropical Tobacco,
Newcleus,
Brothers Johnson,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.