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 Sweden and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 FM Einheit to the electroclash 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Fad Gadget,
Blancmange,
Pere Ubu,
Radiopuhelimet,
David Bowie,
Anthony Braxton,
Sugar Minott,
Camberwell Now,
Wasted Youth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Cure,
Flipper,
Fugazi,
Wally Richardson,
New Age Steppers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Peter and Kerry,
Section 25,
The Music Machine,
Zero Boys,
Stetsasonic,
Zapp,
Metal Thangz,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lou Reed,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Janne Schatter,
The Smiths,
Mars,
The Toasters,
Scratch Acid,
Howard Jones,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Aloha Tigers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sam Rivers,
Ronan,
June Days,
KRS-One,
Toni Rubio,
Heaven 17,
Organ,
Funkadelic,
The Trojans,
Byron Stingily,
Johnny Clarke,
Robert Hood,
Faraquet,
Echospace,
Accadde A,
The Smoke,
Donny Hathaway,
The Associates,
Ultimate Spinach,
Panda Bear,
Bill Wells,
Idris Muhammad,
Sly & The Family Stone,
L. Decosne,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.