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 Marshall Islands and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 JFA to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
Neu!,
Throbbing Gristle,
Aaron Thompson,
Black Moon,
Isaac Hayes,
Altered Images,
Tomorrow,
The Golliwogs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Andrew Hill,
Lou Christie,
the Human League,
Danielle Patucci,
Basic Channel,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dawn Penn,
Ultra Naté,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Aloha Tigers,
The Motions,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sonny Sharrock,
Al Stewart,
Freddie Wadling,
D'Angelo,
Terry Callier,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fall,
Chris Corsano,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Durutti Column,
Fela Kuti,
Parry Music,
LL Cool J,
Cybotron,
Animal Collective,
Letta Mbulu,
Monks,
Cecil Taylor,
Todd Rundgren,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
CMW,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Slits,
Swell Maps,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Detroit Cobras,
Albert Ayler,
Roxette,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cheater Slicks,
La Düsseldorf,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lalo Schifrin,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marmalade,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.