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 Zimbabwe and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
Harmonia,
The Index,
the Normal,
Scion,
The Invisible,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Grey Daturas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fear,
Heaven 17,
Colin Newman,
Darondo,
The Velvet Underground,
Section 25,
Clear Light,
the Swans,
Bobby Sherman,
Harpers Bizarre,
Japan,
Saccharine Trust,
Chris Corsano,
Los Fastidios,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fugs,
Rakim,
Peter & Gordon,
the Bar-Kays,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Fania All-Stars,
Piero Umiliani,
DJ Style,
Marshall Jefferson,
48th St. Collective,
The Modern Lovers,
Mad Mike,
Nirvana,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ossler,
Quadrant,
Reagan Youth,
The Associates,
The Star Department,
The Last Poets,
Eli Mardock,
Traffic Nightmare,
Freddie Wadling,
Skarface,
The Selecter,
Stockholm Monsters,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Nas,
The Dirtbombs,
Angry Samoans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.