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 Afghanistan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 synthesizer 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 Joe Finger to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Techniques. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
The Dead C,
The Slackers,
Radio Birdman,
LL Cool J,
Inner City,
Morten Harket,
The Five Americans,
Urselle,
Bauhaus,
the Sonics,
OOIOO,
Crime,
Angry Samoans,
R.M.O.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lyres,
Leonard Cohen,
Sparks,
Eric Copeland,
Roger Hodgson,
H. Thieme,
New York Dolls,
DNA,
Mr. Review,
Crispy Ambulance,
Alphaville,
Pantaleimon,
Wasted Youth,
Drive Like Jehu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sex Pistols,
Absolute Body Control,
Sarah Menescal,
Arthur Verocai,
The Residents,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Raincoats,
DJ Style,
Index,
The United States of America,
Neu!,
The Kinks,
June of 44,
Scientists,
Electric Prunes,
Jandek,
Lower 48,
Eurythmics,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Smoke,
One Last Wish,
The Moleskins,
Bill Near,
Symarip,
Neil Young,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rhythm & Sound,
Colin Newman,
Gang Green,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.