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 Madagascar and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Henry Cow to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
David Axelrod,
Tropical Tobacco,
Section 25,
Radio Birdman,
Flipper,
a-ha,
Terry Callier,
Junior Murvin,
Oblivians,
Supertramp,
Minutemen,
Underground Resistance,
Quadrant,
The Dead C,
Cecil Taylor,
Pagans,
In Retrospect,
E-Dancer,
Kayak,
Roxy Music,
Sister Nancy,
Mo-Dettes,
Tears for Fears,
Fat Boys,
The Sound,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Carl Craig,
Roy Ayers,
Idris Muhammad,
Sugar Minott,
The Walker Brothers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Clear Light,
Yaz,
Max Romeo,
Black Flag,
Gang Starr,
Byron Stingily,
Grey Daturas,
Lee Hazlewood,
Camouflage,
The Detroit Cobras,
Procol Harum,
Sound Behaviour,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dorothy Ashby,
Talk Talk,
Radiopuhelimet,
Circle Jerks,
Sparks,
Grauzone,
Deadbeat,
Pole,
Alison Limerick,
Skarface,
The Smoke,
Funkadelic,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.