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 Kazakhstan and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Techniques to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Lindisfarne,
Dead Boys,
Scan 7,
The Moody Blues,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Flash Fearless,
the Association,
the Swans,
The Fall,
Parry Music,
Terry Callier,
R.M.O.,
Electric Prunes,
Metal Thangz,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Beau Brummels,
Von Mondo,
Sixth Finger,
Animal Collective,
The Cowsills,
The Mummies,
Jacques Brel,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nik Kershaw,
Mr. Review,
DNA,
Gong,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Eric Dolphy,
Fear,
Althea and Donna,
The Gun Club,
Ponytail,
Eden Ahbez,
MC5,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wire,
New Order,
Cal Tjader,
Ken Boothe,
Depeche Mode,
Little Man,
Harmonia,
The Cure,
H. Thieme,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sight & Sound,
Marc Almond,
Steve Hackett,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Masters at Work,
James White and The Blacks,
Derrick May,
Brick,
The Motions,
The Saints,
Black Flag,
The Monochrome Set,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane.
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.