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 Kyrgyzstan and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 oboe 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 F. McDonald to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Marine Girls,
The Move,
Los Fastidios,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aaron Thompson,
The New Christs,
The Velvet Underground,
Patti Smith,
Chris & Cosey,
Roy Ayers,
Lyres,
Bill Near,
Rites of Spring,
Technova,
The United States of America,
Barry Ungar,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Minny Pops,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Q and Not U,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultra Naté,
Crime,
Ornette Coleman,
Hashim,
Simply Red,
Dawn Penn,
The Black Dice,
Moby Grape,
June of 44,
The Five Americans,
John Coltrane,
Reagan Youth,
Silicon Teens,
Ultimate Spinach,
Porter Ricks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Fat Boys,
Flamin' Groovies,
MC5,
The Sonics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
EPMD,
Dennis Brown,
Sixth Finger,
PIL,
David McCallum,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jeru the Damaja,
Davy DMX,
Liliput,
Brothers Johnson,
Scott Walker,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Janne Schatter,
Grauzone,
Ludus,
The Wake,
Bauhaus,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.