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 Israel and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 mellotron 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 Symarip to the grime 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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Nick Fraelich,
Josef K,
The Angels of Light,
The Skatalites,
Trumans Water,
Mo-Dettes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Depeche Mode,
The Birthday Party,
The Techniques,
Max Romeo,
Althea and Donna,
Rites of Spring,
Man Parrish,
Black Pus,
China Crisis,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Icehouse,
Robert Görl,
Half Japanese,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Warren Ellis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cameo,
The Monochrome Set,
Rekid,
Don Cherry,
A Certain Ratio,
Crispian St. Peters,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kurtis Blow,
Liliput,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Howard Jones,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Velvet Underground,
Magazine,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Television,
Schoolly D,
Thee Headcoats,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gang Gang Dance,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eric Copeland,
The Motions,
MC5,
Adolescents,
Neil Young,
Sixth Finger,
The Litter,
Sparks,
Crispy Ambulance,
This Heat,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.