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 Libya and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Colin Newman to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Hasil Adkins,
Sonny Sharrock,
Barbara Tucker,
Dennis Brown,
Mo-Dettes,
Malaria!,
Tropical Tobacco,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sällskapet,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Blues Magoos,
The Gun Club,
The Wake,
Bobby Womack,
The Blackbyrds,
Severed Heads,
Cameo,
Drexciya,
Kevin Saunderson,
Hot Snakes,
Scan 7,
Con Funk Shun,
Al Stewart,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Dirtbombs,
Barrington Levy,
Black Bananas,
the Association,
The Happenings,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Nils Olav,
Fela Kuti,
Talk Talk,
Lalann,
The United States of America,
Make Up,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sun Ra,
The Golliwogs,
Liliput,
Pole,
Tommy Roe,
Nirvana,
Ken Boothe,
Lyres,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Slackers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Divine Comedy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Deadbeat,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eden Ahbez,
Ralphi Rosario,
Minutemen,
The Standells,
Funkadelic,
KRS-One,
Jawbox,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.