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 Burkina and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 arpeggiator 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 Los Fastidios 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 The New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arcadia 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Faust,
Alphaville,
Country Teasers,
Hardrive,
The Pretty Things,
The Real Kids,
Animal Collective,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Masters at Work,
Pole,
John Holt,
Chrome,
Jawbox,
Eli Mardock,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eric Copeland,
Henry Cow,
Reagan Youth,
Patti Smith,
Radiopuhelimet,
Surgeon,
The Barracudas,
Franke,
Urselle,
Eddi Front,
Cluster,
Eric Dolphy,
Ludus,
8 Eyed Spy,
Moebius,
Thompson Twins,
Spandau Ballet,
Jacob Miller,
Colin Newman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Public Enemy,
FM Einheit,
Smog,
Barry Ungar,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Anakelly,
The Velvet Underground,
The Cure,
Marshall Jefferson,
Parry Music,
These Immortal Souls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Black Pus,
The Electric Prunes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Martian,
Adolescents,
Average White Band,
Roxette,
E-Dancer,
Wasted Youth,
Sixth Finger,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cheater Slicks,
Idris Muhammad,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band.
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.