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 Slovenia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Swans to the dance 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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Yusef Lateef,
Donald Byrd,
Soft Cell,
Malaria!,
Altered Images,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mo-Dettes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Yaz,
Blake Baxter,
Terry Callier,
Easy Going,
Scientists,
the Bar-Kays,
Infiniti,
Bush Tetras,
Jerry's Kids,
D'Angelo,
Henry Cow,
Sixth Finger,
Unrelated Segments,
Flipper,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rotary Connection,
Kenny Larkin,
Susan Cadogan,
Popol Vuh,
Kayak,
Cymande,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Skarface,
Scan 7,
Matthew Halsall,
Grauzone,
Barclay James Harvest,
Skriet,
Unwound,
Public Enemy,
Ronnie Foster,
David Bowie,
Cybotron,
Charles Mingus,
The Sonics,
the Germs,
Adolescents,
The Buckinghams,
Cameo,
The Cowsills,
June Days,
Bob Dylan,
Jeff Mills,
Brand Nubian,
Spoonie Gee,
Peter and Kerry,
The Birthday Party,
The Happenings,
Pharoah Sanders,
Young Marble Giants,
The Music Machine,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.