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 Iraq and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 synthesizer 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 Michelle Simonal to the crunk 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Essential Logic,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Iggy Pop,
The Angels of Light,
Charles Mingus,
ABC,
Ultra Naté,
Tears for Fears,
Andrew Hill,
Anakelly,
Rufus Thomas,
Dual Sessions,
the Slits,
The Raincoats,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kenny Larkin,
Agent Orange,
UT,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Walker Brothers,
The Neon Judgement,
Juan Atkins,
The Red Krayola,
The Names,
The Blackbyrds,
Rod Modell,
Al Stewart,
The Pop Group,
The Dirtbombs,
Mad Mike,
Terry Callier,
Rapeman,
Sam Rivers,
Duran Duran,
JFA,
Nik Kershaw,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dead Boys,
Parry Music,
The Knickerbockers,
Soul II Soul,
Cal Tjader,
Eric Dolphy,
Chrome,
Barclay James Harvest,
Derrick May,
One Last Wish,
Black Moon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Swell Maps,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fat Boys,
The Durutti Column,
Unrelated Segments,
The Victims,
Motorama,
AZ,
Oblivians,
La Düsseldorf,
Brick,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.