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 Taiwan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 arpeggiator 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the electroclash 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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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?
Malaria!,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rotary Connection,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pharoah Sanders,
Depeche Mode,
Easy Going,
Babytalk,
Japan,
Visage,
The Gories,
Barrington Levy,
John Coltrane,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Simply Red,
Vladislav Delay,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Slits,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Pretty Things,
Amon Düül II,
Throbbing Gristle,
Agitation Free,
Jimmy McGriff,
Swell Maps,
Arab on Radar,
Eric Dolphy,
Moebius,
Barbara Tucker,
Vainqueur,
Nirvana,
Eddi Front,
Whodini,
Ludus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Amazonics,
The Gap Band,
Radiohead,
Supertramp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Golliwogs,
Gabor Szabo,
Bob Dylan,
Negative Approach,
Mantronix,
the Bar-Kays,
Sparks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alphaville,
Tubeway Army,
ABBA,
Ponytail,
Yusef Lateef,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Black Pus,
Franke,
Mr. Review,
Hasil Adkins,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.