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 Canada and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 sitar 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 Joy Division to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pere Ubu,
Rekid,
Cecil Taylor,
the Association,
Suburban Knight,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Eurythmics,
Howard Jones,
Youth Brigade,
Pierre Henry,
Nik Kershaw,
Supertramp,
The Doobie Brothers,
Los Fastidios,
The Moody Blues,
Joy Division,
Subhumans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Colin Newman,
Lyres,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
Amazonics,
Peter and Kerry,
Japan,
Carl Craig,
Todd Terry,
Graham Central Station,
Intrusion,
Derrick May,
Lou Reed,
Surgeon,
Boredoms,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Normal,
Malaria!,
Isaac Hayes,
Marine Girls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lou Christie,
Television Personalities,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Grass Roots,
Bang On A Can,
The Selecter,
The Mummies,
Saccharine Trust,
Radio Birdman,
The J.B.'s,
Jandek,
Angry Samoans,
Yaz,
The Fortunes,
The Victims,
Crooked Eye,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.