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 San Marino and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wolf Eyes to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Japan,
Nik Kershaw,
Ponytail,
Minny Pops,
The Moody Blues,
Donny Hathaway,
Hardrive,
T. Rex,
Blake Baxter,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Subhumans,
The Associates,
LL Cool J,
Tropical Tobacco,
June of 44,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
10cc,
John Coltrane,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Searchers,
Fugazi,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Matthew Halsall,
Magma,
The Victims,
Cabaret Voltaire,
cv313,
John Holt,
Television Personalities,
Heaven 17,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sällskapet,
Animal Collective,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Lydon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Reagan Youth,
Sugar Minott,
Joy Division,
Marshall Jefferson,
Charles Mingus,
X-Ray Spex,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Spandau Ballet,
The New Christs,
Hoover,
Harry Pussy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
This Heat,
The Music Machine,
L. Decosne,
Maurizio,
Deakin,
The Cowsills,
Funkadelic,
Supertramp,
Jandek,
Soft Cell,
Stiv Bators,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.