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 Laos and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jeff Lynne to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Siglo XX,
The Standells,
Fela Kuti,
Underground Resistance,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Franke,
These Immortal Souls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Byrd,
The Golliwogs,
Alison Limerick,
Quando Quango,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tim Buckley,
Peter and Kerry,
X-Ray Spex,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marshall Jefferson,
Junior Murvin,
The Durutti Column,
Yellowson,
Juan Atkins,
John Cale,
David McCallum,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Smog,
Steve Hackett,
Kaleidoscope,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Nils Olav,
Pole,
Sällskapet,
Boredoms,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Womack,
The Monks,
The Martian,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Cowsills,
Bush Tetras,
the Association,
Angry Samoans,
DJ Style,
Brothers Johnson,
Ohio Players,
Theoretical Girls,
The Victims,
Sonic Youth,
Sam Rivers,
Cameo,
Tomorrow,
Model 500,
Crooked Eye,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Dave Clark Five,
Young Marble Giants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cecil Taylor,
Skriet,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.