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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scrapy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Aaron Thompson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Radio Birdman,
Crooked Eye,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barrington Levy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Hot Snakes,
ABC,
Robert Görl,
Model 500,
Mars,
Cecil Taylor,
Interpol,
Jerry's Kids,
Rosa Yemen,
The Young Rascals,
Black Bananas,
Agitation Free,
X-102,
Robert Wyatt,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dawn Penn,
The Happenings,
Gichy Dan,
Saccharine Trust,
The Pretty Things,
Arab on Radar,
Mantronix,
Deadbeat,
Absolute Body Control,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rakim,
the Sonics,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Pus,
The Saints,
Frankie Knuckles,
Japan,
Eli Mardock,
John Lydon,
Prince Buster,
Soul Sonic Force,
Scratch Acid,
Soft Machine,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sonny Sharrock,
Section 25,
Joy Division,
Soul II Soul,
The Star Department,
Warren Ellis,
Massinfluence,
Parry Music,
David Axelrod,
Black Sheep,
Marc Almond,
Al Stewart,
Pet Shop Boys,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.