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 Cambodia and from Manila.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 D'Angelo to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
kango's stein massive,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ultravox,
Wally Richardson,
Arab on Radar,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Star Department,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eve St. Jones,
Al Stewart,
The Mojo Men,
Crash Course in Science,
Minny Pops,
48th St. Collective,
The Grass Roots,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lower 48,
These Immortal Souls,
Babytalk,
Grauzone,
The American Breed,
Barrington Levy,
Neu!,
The Techniques,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Gun Club,
Tom Boy,
The Barracudas,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eden Ahbez,
The Real Kids,
Nik Kershaw,
Rod Modell,
Desert Stars,
Duran Duran,
Scion,
Tomorrow,
Morten Harket,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Sonics,
Rufus Thomas,
Excepter,
The Fuzztones,
Shuggie Otis,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lyres,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Skaos,
Avey Tare,
Henry Cow,
the Association,
Black Moon,
Wire,
Loose Ends,
Nils Olav,
Smog,
The Trojans,
Severed Heads,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.