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 Sierra Leone and from Bologna.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 güiro 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 Q and Not U to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
La Düsseldorf,
Y Pants,
Gang Gang Dance,
Japan,
Interpol,
The Mojo Men,
the Sonics,
Scrapy,
Quando Quango,
Main Source,
The Motions,
The Sonics,
Sparks,
James White and The Blacks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Andrew Hill,
Darondo,
Johnny Clarke,
The Evens,
Angry Samoans,
Zapp,
Nik Kershaw,
The Sound,
Maleditus Sound,
Public Image Ltd.,
Faraquet,
Wasted Youth,
Los Fastidios,
Suburban Knight,
The Pretty Things,
Gabor Szabo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Saints,
The Golliwogs,
Black Flag,
Harry Pussy,
Metal Thangz,
The New Christs,
Faust,
Mo-Dettes,
Magazine,
Livin' Joy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Television Personalities,
Kenny Larkin,
Ronan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Trojans,
Thompson Twins,
Barrington Levy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Zeros,
8 Eyed Spy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sun City Girls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.