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 Swaziland and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 linndrum 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 Josef K to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eurythmics. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Crime,
Dawn Penn,
Con Funk Shun,
Stockholm Monsters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nils Olav,
Byron Stingily,
Connie Case,
The Saints,
Judy Mowatt,
Lou Christie,
Al Stewart,
The Blackbyrds,
Wolf Eyes,
Minutemen,
The Golliwogs,
The J.B.'s,
Tom Boy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Theoretical Girls,
B.T. Express,
FM Einheit,
Skriet,
Swell Maps,
Marmalade,
A Certain Ratio,
JFA,
Aaron Thompson,
Anthony Braxton,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Slave,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Big Daddy Kane,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Alison Limerick,
Traffic Nightmare,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cal Tjader,
Bronski Beat,
Country Teasers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Skaos,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Robert Wyatt,
Quando Quango,
Icehouse,
Hardrive,
Yaz,
F. McDonald,
Terry Callier,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jandek,
Grey Daturas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lalo Schifrin,
KRS-One,
Donny Hathaway,
the Slits,
U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple.
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.