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 New Zealand 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Second Layer to the punk 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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed 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?
Avey Tare,
Bill Near,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Moleskins,
B.T. Express,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scratch Acid,
Circle Jerks,
Terry Callier,
Kurtis Blow,
the Sonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Move,
The Remains,
Crash Course in Science,
The Litter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tres Demented,
Tom Boy,
Hot Snakes,
Morten Harket,
Supertramp,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pulsallama,
The Count Five,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Association,
The Star Department,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Don Cherry,
Vladislav Delay,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Music Machine,
Bang On A Can,
Rufus Thomas,
The Associates,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sam Rivers,
Suicide,
The Busters,
Neu!,
X-Ray Spex,
Magazine,
T. Rex,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Fire Engines,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Oblivians,
The United States of America,
Byron Stingily,
The Cowsills,
The Last Poets,
DJ Sneak,
Negative Approach,
Amon Düül,
Eurythmics,
KRS-One,
Soft Cell,
Jandek,
The Modern Lovers,
The Gories,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.