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 Greece and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Bill Near,
Mad Mike,
The Golliwogs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cheater Slicks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scion,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Infiniti,
the Slits,
The New Christs,
The Offenders,
Radiohead,
Pierre Henry,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Toasters,
The Doobie Brothers,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Kinks,
The J.B.'s,
The Buckinghams,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Panda Bear,
The Trojans,
The Dead C,
Khruangbin,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jesper Dahlback,
cv313,
The Sonics,
Joe Smooth,
Soft Machine,
Television,
Siglo XX,
the Association,
The Black Dice,
Unwound,
The Victims,
Parry Music,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Spoonie Gee,
E-Dancer,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Duran Duran,
Average White Band,
The Searchers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Matthew Bourne,
Gabor Szabo,
Erykah Badu,
The Index,
Alphaville,
Das Ding,
Can,
Outsiders,
Hasil Adkins,
Chris Corsano,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.