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 Paraguay and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 sitar 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 The Sisters of Mercy to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Juan Atkins,
Section 25,
Black Bananas,
The Residents,
Stetsasonic,
Faust,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bauhaus,
Excepter,
Negative Approach,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Raincoats,
the Normal,
Neu!,
June of 44,
Lou Christie,
The Cure,
The Selecter,
A Certain Ratio,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Newcleus,
Flipper,
The Beau Brummels,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Fania All-Stars,
Al Stewart,
Bluetip,
Stockholm Monsters,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Black Dice,
Crash Course in Science,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Severed Heads,
Arcadia,
Johnny Clarke,
David McCallum,
Jawbox,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moby Grape,
Sound Behaviour,
Sarah Menescal,
Reuben Wilson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suicide,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Busters,
K-Klass,
Pere Ubu,
Cheater Slicks,
The Slits,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Circle Jerks,
Sister Nancy,
Ronnie Foster,
Blancmange,
Siglo XX,
U.S. Maple,
Mandrill,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.