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 Laos and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Moody Blues to the disco 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog 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?
Ossler,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Index,
Neu!,
Gil Scott Heron,
Magma,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mr. Review,
Lungfish,
Warren Ellis,
Wasted Youth,
Connie Case,
Gichy Dan,
Essential Logic,
Aloha Tigers,
Thompson Twins,
Quando Quango,
Lakeside,
Ornette Coleman,
Goldenarms,
Rakim,
The Gun Club,
Susan Cadogan,
Alton Ellis,
U.S. Maple,
Procol Harum,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tom Boy,
Joensuu 1685,
The Moody Blues,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Clear Light,
Rosa Yemen,
Tres Demented,
Y Pants,
Brand Nubian,
Yellowson,
Funky Four + One,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Knickerbockers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bang On A Can,
Dave Gahan,
Ituana,
Fat Boys,
The Saints,
Mandrill,
Pagans,
Scan 7,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Neon Judgement,
Arab on Radar,
Television Personalities,
Man Parrish,
Little Man,
Groovy Waters,
Colin Newman,
Tommy Roe,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lucky Dragons,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.