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 Albania and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Massinfluence,
The Shadows of Knight,
Television,
Y Pants,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Smiths,
Mars,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Dead C,
Spoonie Gee,
Eric B and Rakim,
Black Flag,
Camberwell Now,
Terry Callier,
Jandek,
Nick Fraelich,
Scrapy,
ABC,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Alison Limerick,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spandau Ballet,
Index,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Sonics,
Grandmaster Flash,
Hoover,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Young Rascals,
Bad Manners,
The Moody Blues,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Radio Birdman,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dave Gahan,
Joe Smooth,
Ossler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bob Dylan,
Parry Music,
Sound Behaviour,
The Star Department,
Harry Pussy,
The Smoke,
Infiniti,
Slick Rick,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lungfish,
Agent Orange,
Wasted Youth,
X-Ray Spex,
The Remains,
L. Decosne,
Crash Course in Science,
Soft Machine,
Arthur Verocai,
Desert Stars,
Gong,
Eric Copeland,
K-Klass,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.