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 the UAE and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator 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 The Zeros to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Severed Heads,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Fall,
Zapp,
Lalann,
Jandek,
Vladislav Delay,
Bob Dylan,
10cc,
Sugar Minott,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Index,
Goldenarms,
Crispy Ambulance,
Newcleus,
The Dirtbombs,
Animal Collective,
Iggy Pop,
These Immortal Souls,
Scan 7,
Radiohead,
Livin' Joy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Monochrome Set,
Hasil Adkins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Toasters,
The Wake,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Suicide,
Yaz,
Marvin Gaye,
Dual Sessions,
The Fire Engines,
DNA,
Symarip,
Eve St. Jones,
Jawbox,
Gil Scott Heron,
Talk Talk,
The Birthday Party,
Scrapy,
Slick Rick,
The Monks,
Cybotron,
The Litter,
The Durutti Column,
Groovy Waters,
The Red Krayola,
Glenn Branca,
Buzzcocks,
Tom Boy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Franke,
Adolescents,
The Cramps,
Neil Young,
Television,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.