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 Uzbekistan and from Bremen.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Morten Harket to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Fad Gadget,
Panda Bear,
Warren Ellis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Knickerbockers,
The Zeros,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ken Boothe,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bluetip,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Siglo XX,
This Heat,
John Cale,
Skarface,
Liliput,
Lakeside,
Arthur Verocai,
Roger Hodgson,
David McCallum,
H. Thieme,
Magazine,
Severed Heads,
Sixth Finger,
Oneida,
Brand Nubian,
Rufus Thomas,
Kas Product,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brothers Johnson,
The Fire Engines,
The Residents,
John Foxx,
Ronnie Foster,
Ludus,
Slave,
The Velvet Underground,
Con Funk Shun,
Spandau Ballet,
The Real Kids,
Warsaw,
Black Pus,
Thee Headcoats,
Fluxion,
The Walker Brothers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Hoover,
Barry Ungar,
Kurtis Blow,
CMW,
Crash Course in Science,
the Germs,
Hashim,
Young Marble Giants,
David Axelrod,
Adolescents,
Massinfluence,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.