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 Antigua and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Jawbox to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Newcleus,
Hoover,
Qualms,
Sight & Sound,
The Monks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Slits,
Yusef Lateef,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Sheep,
Derrick May,
New Order,
Eddi Front,
Henry Cow,
Buzzcocks,
B.T. Express,
Robert Hood,
The Smiths,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang of Four,
Kool Moe Dee,
Stetsasonic,
Ten City,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Dead C,
Mission of Burma,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sandy B,
The J.B.'s,
Gastr Del Sol,
James White and The Blacks,
The Invisible,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Bananas,
Can,
Sonic Youth,
The Techniques,
Main Source,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ornette Coleman,
Thee Headcoats,
The Fortunes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Big Daddy Kane,
AZ,
Banda Bassotti,
The Remains,
Wings,
The Victims,
Q65,
The Dirtbombs,
Howard Jones,
Gichy Dan,
EPMD,
Soul Sonic Force,
Outsiders,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.