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 Tunisia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
CMW,
The Golliwogs,
The Gladiators,
Roxy Music,
Young Marble Giants,
Zapp,
Yusef Lateef,
Q65,
cv313,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Spandau Ballet,
Arab on Radar,
Max Romeo,
Pierre Henry,
Lucky Dragons,
The Tremeloes,
Matthew Halsall,
Lou Christie,
Agent Orange,
Bang On A Can,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Gang Green,
Ken Boothe,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Nirvana,
The Cowsills,
Angry Samoans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Graham Central Station,
The Smoke,
Stetsasonic,
Girls At Our Best!,
Wolf Eyes,
Ossler,
Nik Kershaw,
Fat Boys,
Half Japanese,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Das Ding,
Jawbox,
Qualms,
Brick,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Crash Course in Science,
Skaos,
Pylon,
Fela Kuti,
Quantec,
Drexciya,
Shoche,
Bobby Sherman,
The Kinks,
Amon Düül,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Neu!,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Soul Sonic Force,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.