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 Niger and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Symarip to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
The Neon Judgement,
Terry Callier,
Lyres,
Agitation Free,
Gastr Del Sol,
Erasure,
Cybotron,
Cymande,
Eric Dolphy,
Clear Light,
Mantronix,
Dead Boys,
The Residents,
The Fugs,
8 Eyed Spy,
Accadde A,
Man Eating Sloth,
Radiohead,
Suicide,
Al Stewart,
Idris Muhammad,
Sonic Youth,
Joey Negro,
The Raincoats,
The Toasters,
Scan 7,
Marmalade,
F. McDonald,
cv313,
Bill Wells,
Delta 5,
Derrick May,
Soft Cell,
Todd Terry,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Tremeloes,
Masters at Work,
The J.B.'s,
Nico,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Modern Lovers,
the Bar-Kays,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Josef K,
T.S.O.L.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Archie Shepp,
Robert Wyatt,
Tommy Roe,
Bobby Sherman,
PIL,
Pantytec,
the Association,
Shoche,
DNA,
Flipper,
Agent Orange,
Magazine,
This Heat,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.