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 South Sudan and from Johannesburg.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Altered Images to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Joy Division,
Young Marble Giants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
David Axelrod,
Crooked Eye,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
JFA,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Intrusion,
Whodini,
John Foxx,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Moleskins,
The Detroit Cobras,
Visage,
Scientists,
Harpers Bizarre,
Arab on Radar,
Rapeman,
B.T. Express,
Amon Düül,
Oblivians,
The Moody Blues,
Zero Boys,
Maleditus Sound,
Das Ding,
Ken Boothe,
The Angels of Light,
the Germs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Joe Smooth,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Flash Fearless,
Ossler,
Yellowson,
The Cramps,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Faust,
Mandrill,
Cecil Taylor,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Amon Düül II,
Man Parrish,
Mark Hollis,
Jacques Brel,
The Martian,
Hoover,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gabor Szabo,
Gong,
cv313,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kerri Chandler,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Severed Heads,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.