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 Papua New Guinea and from Columbus.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 X-101 to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Sonic Youth,
Talk Talk,
Nils Olav,
Gang Gang Dance,
Second Layer,
Pulsallama,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Scion,
Soft Cell,
Boredoms,
Outsiders,
Tres Demented,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sex Pistols,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
JFA,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dennis Brown,
The Electric Prunes,
Cymande,
T.S.O.L.,
Jeff Mills,
Ice-T,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Prince Buster,
R.M.O.,
Harmonia,
Ronan,
Lyres,
The Zeros,
Livin' Joy,
OOIOO,
Maleditus Sound,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Harry Pussy,
Model 500,
the Association,
Electric Light Orchestra,
CMW,
Patti Smith,
Crispy Ambulance,
Alice Coltrane,
The Fall,
Cluster,
Young Marble Giants,
Simply Red,
Dave Gahan,
Wings,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quantec,
Gang Starr,
Bad Manners,
Judy Mowatt,
Alison Limerick,
Tommy Roe,
Robert Wyatt,
Byron Stingily,
The Human League,
Malaria!,
Erykah Badu,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.