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 France and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Detroit Cobras to the disco 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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DeepChord presents Echospace record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 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 Searchers,
Cybotron,
The Fortunes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Associates,
New York Dolls,
Gang Green,
The Leaves,
Inner City,
The Knickerbockers,
Lightning Bolt,
These Immortal Souls,
Mr. Review,
Scientists,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Last Poets,
Porter Ricks,
The Saints,
Khruangbin,
Kenny Larkin,
Eve St. Jones,
Moss Icon,
Can,
Maurizio,
Hoover,
Guru Guru,
Dave Gahan,
Stiv Bators,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Man Parrish,
The Walker Brothers,
The Remains,
Ice-T,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Smoke,
the Soft Cell,
Magma,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Gun Club,
DJ Style,
Deakin,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Y Pants,
John Coltrane,
Mad Mike,
Schoolly D,
Rosa Yemen,
Brick,
Blake Baxter,
the Human League,
Pussy Galore,
The Move,
The Fire Engines,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pierre Henry,
The Monks,
Masters at Work,
Smog,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.