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 Papua New Guinea and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Janne Schatter to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Black Bananas,
Yaz,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Janne Schatter,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Dead C,
Chris & Cosey,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alice Coltrane,
LL Cool J,
Isaac Hayes,
Yusef Lateef,
Icehouse,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jeff Lynne,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Freddie Wadling,
Inner City,
Scientists,
the Normal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Heaven 17,
Sly & The Family Stone,
David Axelrod,
Newcleus,
Barrington Levy,
Saccharine Trust,
The Smoke,
Kurtis Blow,
Whodini,
The Modern Lovers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Glenn Branca,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Das Ding,
The Last Poets,
Thompson Twins,
Accadde A,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cymande,
Rakim,
F. McDonald,
MDC,
Angry Samoans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Robert Görl,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Mad Mike,
Cecil Taylor,
Agent Orange,
Girls At Our Best!,
Magma,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Suicide,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.