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 New Zealand and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grunge 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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Gang Starr,
Section 25,
Mad Mike,
Pantytec,
Gerry Rafferty,
Erasure,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tears for Fears,
Soft Machine,
Brand Nubian,
The Human League,
Donny Hathaway,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Loose Ends,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Gun Club,
Jacques Brel,
One Last Wish,
the Normal,
Slick Rick,
Warsaw,
JFA,
Procol Harum,
K-Klass,
Siglo XX,
The Buckinghams,
John Lydon,
Brass Construction,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ice-T,
Circle Jerks,
The Leaves,
Franke,
Shoche,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Move,
Agent Orange,
Adolescents,
Magazine,
Barbara Tucker,
Funkadelic,
Oblivians,
Bronski Beat,
Alison Limerick,
The Young Rascals,
Ultravox,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
10cc,
Monolake,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Depeche Mode,
Infiniti,
The Trojans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Swans,
Judy Mowatt,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Babytalk,
B.T. Express,
Thompson Twins,
Cameo,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.