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 Maldives and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Tears for Fears to the grunge 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
James White and The Blacks,
The Buckinghams,
The United States of America,
Lou Reed,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Modern Lovers,
Mr. Review,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cheater Slicks,
China Crisis,
Stetsasonic,
The Zeros,
Black Flag,
AZ,
Black Sheep,
Fela Kuti,
Rakim,
48th St. Collective,
Rhythm & Sound,
Hot Snakes,
The Monks,
Motorama,
Sonic Youth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jandek,
Slick Rick,
Andrew Hill,
Ohio Players,
Byron Stingily,
Fear,
Morten Harket,
Brass Construction,
Nas,
Tears for Fears,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bang On A Can,
Depeche Mode,
David McCallum,
Quadrant,
Don Cherry,
H. Thieme,
The Monochrome Set,
Mary Jane Girls,
Stereo Dub,
Glenn Branca,
Scientists,
The Standells,
Joyce Sims,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Half Japanese,
Loose Ends,
Blake Baxter,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Thee Headcoats,
The Angels of Light,
The Divine Comedy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The New Christs,
Qualms,
Jawbox,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.