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 China and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Winnipeg and Columbus.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Sisters of Mercy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
Ronan,
Gang of Four,
the Fania All-Stars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Supertramp,
Sam Rivers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Zero Boys,
Erykah Badu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Loose Ends,
Steve Hackett,
Idris Muhammad,
Mr. Review,
Harmonia,
Sun City Girls,
Bob Dylan,
KRS-One,
Terry Callier,
Lungfish,
Lakeside,
The Residents,
Ultra Naté,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Altered Images,
Kurtis Blow,
The Dead C,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
T. Rex,
Swans,
Fluxion,
Ornette Coleman,
The Happenings,
Sparks,
The Star Department,
U.S. Maple,
Lou Christie,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Infiniti,
Scan 7,
Q65,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ohio Players,
Black Sheep,
Brick,
Los Fastidios,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Lydon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cabaret Voltaire,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Barclay James Harvest,
Khruangbin,
Unrelated Segments,
Fad Gadget,
Radio Birdman,
Vainqueur,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Smiths,
Thompson Twins,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.