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 Romania and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Ossler to the rock 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Guru Guru,
Iggy Pop,
Sex Pistols,
Jerry's Kids,
CMW,
Qualms,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bad Manners,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Donald Byrd,
June of 44,
The Vogues,
The Divine Comedy,
Peter & Gordon,
James White and The Blacks,
Soft Cell,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eddi Front,
Livin' Joy,
Deadbeat,
Newcleus,
Motorama,
Y Pants,
The Offenders,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fluxion,
Dark Day,
Howard Jones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pussy Galore,
The American Breed,
Robert Hood,
MC5,
The Sisters of Mercy,
June Days,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Albert Ayler,
Electric Light Orchestra,
China Crisis,
Oblivians,
The Alarm Clocks,
Schoolly D,
Technova,
Derrick Morgan,
The J.B.'s,
Dorothy Ashby,
Glambeats Corp.,
Babytalk,
Nils Olav,
Prince Buster,
Tim Buckley,
The Pop Group,
X-101,
Wolf Eyes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Youth Brigade,
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.