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 Portugal and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Beijing.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet 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 T.S.O.L. to the grunge 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Walker Brothers,
Barbara Tucker,
the Human League,
Thee Headcoats,
Grauzone,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Franke,
The Birthday Party,
Khruangbin,
Letta Mbulu,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
In Retrospect,
Japan,
Eden Ahbez,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scratch Acid,
Minutemen,
Fear,
Albert Ayler,
UT,
Sight & Sound,
Public Enemy,
Prince Buster,
Dave Gahan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Con Funk Shun,
The Litter,
The Sonics,
The Fuzztones,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sex Pistols,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cecil Taylor,
Tropical Tobacco,
Anthony Braxton,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bush Tetras,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Donny Hathaway,
Max Romeo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fat Boys,
Yazoo,
Drexciya,
The Dead C,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Subhumans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Stetsasonic,
Flipper,
Liliput,
The Moleskins,
Can,
Black Bananas,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fire Engines,
The Stooges,
Gang of Four,
The Victims,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.