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 Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Paris.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 X-102 to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Unrelated Segments,
Can,
Cecil Taylor,
Severed Heads,
Gang Gang Dance,
Spandau Ballet,
Bootsy Collins,
Babytalk,
The Trojans,
Scott Walker,
Theoretical Girls,
John Holt,
Alice Coltrane,
Newcleus,
Procol Harum,
Ornette Coleman,
Subhumans,
Franke,
OOIOO,
Marmalade,
Scrapy,
Joe Smooth,
Susan Cadogan,
Lalann,
The Slits,
MC5,
Parry Music,
Barbara Tucker,
Blake Baxter,
T. Rex,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Searchers,
Eddi Front,
Jacques Brel,
The Invisible,
Althea and Donna,
Lungfish,
Radio Birdman,
Rufus Thomas,
Unwound,
Smog,
Anakelly,
Darondo,
Zero Boys,
Dave Gahan,
The Smoke,
The Doors,
Throbbing Gristle,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wolf Eyes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Swans,
Bob Dylan,
Q and Not U,
Brass Construction,
Main Source,
Minutemen,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ken Boothe,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.