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 Burkina and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Edmonton.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scientists to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalo Schifrin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Pylon,
The Human League,
Rites of Spring,
Althea and Donna,
the Slits,
Gong,
The Knickerbockers,
Sight & Sound,
Severed Heads,
The Young Rascals,
Los Fastidios,
The Angels of Light,
The Birthday Party,
The Mojo Men,
Barclay James Harvest,
Siglo XX,
Brick,
Hardrive,
Roy Ayers,
Iggy Pop,
The Gun Club,
PIL,
The Real Kids,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kurtis Blow,
Amazonics,
The Sonics,
Malaria!,
Average White Band,
T. Rex,
MDC,
Khruangbin,
Barbara Tucker,
Interpol,
Erykah Badu,
Arcadia,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Saints,
Stockholm Monsters,
Infiniti,
The Litter,
The Residents,
Graham Central Station,
The Gap Band,
Byron Stingily,
Roxy Music,
Clear Light,
Derrick May,
Pierre Henry,
Monolake,
Marvin Gaye,
Schoolly D,
Q and Not U,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Goldenarms,
Mad Mike,
Rod Modell,
Agent Orange,
Underground Resistance,
Patti Smith,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.