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 Argentina and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin 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 Erykah Badu to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Jandek,
The Sound,
Max Romeo,
Pet Shop Boys,
Television,
Heaven 17,
Roxy Music,
Crash Course in Science,
Fat Boys,
kango's stein massive,
Bob Dylan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sex Pistols,
Hasil Adkins,
Simply Red,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sixth Finger,
Ralphi Rosario,
Minnie Riperton,
Althea and Donna,
Pharoah Sanders,
Prince Buster,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Neil Young,
Avey Tare,
Tomorrow,
ABBA,
The Knickerbockers,
Hot Snakes,
Cheater Slicks,
The Five Americans,
Soulsonic Force,
Procol Harum,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
D'Angelo,
Glenn Branca,
the Bar-Kays,
China Crisis,
Stiv Bators,
Black Moon,
Moebius,
The Cowsills,
Bush Tetras,
Mark Hollis,
Essential Logic,
Make Up,
Icehouse,
Harry Pussy,
Iggy Pop,
Eric Dolphy,
Ultravox,
Soft Cell,
Reuben Wilson,
Fela Kuti,
The Moody Blues,
Dawn Penn,
Absolute Body Control,
The Birthday Party,
Panda Bear,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.