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 Czech Republic and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet 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 Cecil Taylor to the funk 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drive Like Jehu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
Qualms,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sandy B,
Make Up,
The J.B.'s,
the Association,
Max Romeo,
Eric Copeland,
The Move,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ornette Coleman,
Rufus Thomas,
Livin' Joy,
Cal Tjader,
Barclay James Harvest,
Unrelated Segments,
Magma,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Porter Ricks,
The Residents,
Mark Hollis,
The Young Rascals,
Supertramp,
Pylon,
Joe Finger,
Scientists,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Christie,
Moebius,
Royal Trux,
Black Flag,
X-101,
Marcia Griffiths,
Swans,
Minor Threat,
The Five Americans,
Connie Case,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Theoretical Girls,
The Vogues,
Cybotron,
Rapeman,
Roger Hodgson,
Barbara Tucker,
The Gories,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marvin Gaye,
John Lydon,
Masters at Work,
Oblivians,
Shoche,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Accadde A,
The Names,
Depeche Mode,
Faust,
Procol Harum,
Prince Buster,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.