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 Malawi and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 spring reverb 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 Anthony Braxton to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Duran Duran,
the Germs,
the Slits,
the Soft Cell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Gang Dance,
Faraquet,
Quando Quango,
The Toasters,
Boogie Down Productions,
Toni Rubio,
Mark Hollis,
Crime,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Rufus Thomas,
Barrington Levy,
Goldenarms,
Anakelly,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Charles Mingus,
The Gories,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Red Krayola,
Spoonie Gee,
Freddie Wadling,
Tomorrow,
K-Klass,
The New Christs,
New Order,
John Holt,
Qualms,
Subhumans,
Ultra Naté,
Steve Hackett,
Black Moon,
The Fortunes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Joey Negro,
Kerri Chandler,
The Wake,
Pagans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tommy Roe,
Janne Schatter,
cv313,
Donny Hathaway,
D'Angelo,
Crooked Eye,
MDC,
Banda Bassotti,
kango's stein massive,
Maurizio,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pylon,
Gang Starr,
Grandmaster Flash,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.