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 Nicaragua and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the punk 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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Reuben Wilson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
This Heat,
Mission of Burma,
U.S. Maple,
Aural Exciters,
Warsaw,
Half Japanese,
Black Bananas,
Buzzcocks,
Bluetip,
Swans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kenny Larkin,
Dave Gahan,
Alison Limerick,
Bizarre Inc.,
Scott Walker,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Q65,
Minnie Riperton,
Hoover,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Cowsills,
Outsiders,
Al Stewart,
Wolf Eyes,
Michelle Simonal,
Crooked Eye,
Deepchord,
Matthew Halsall,
The Cure,
The Residents,
Oblivians,
The American Breed,
The Barracudas,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Excepter,
Brand Nubian,
John Coltrane,
Desert Stars,
Depeche Mode,
Jeff Lynne,
Section 25,
The Cramps,
The J.B.'s,
Scientists,
The Associates,
Donald Byrd,
Royal Trux,
Lucky Dragons,
Severed Heads,
Pantaleimon,
Jacob Miller,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bootsy Collins,
Ossler,
Blossom Toes,
Minny Pops,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.