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 Bhutan and from Manchester.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bremen.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum 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 U.S. Maple to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
La Düsseldorf,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Stiv Bators,
EPMD,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dual Sessions,
Nation of Ulysses,
Adolescents,
Talk Talk,
Josef K,
Visage,
Lou Christie,
The Pop Group,
Suburban Knight,
Fela Kuti,
The Pretty Things,
The Kinks,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Buckinghams,
Alison Limerick,
L. Decosne,
Supertramp,
Angry Samoans,
John Cale,
the Normal,
Harry Pussy,
Andrew Hill,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ten City,
Leonard Cohen,
The Red Krayola,
Electric Prunes,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Jerry's Kids,
Pylon,
Livin' Joy,
Junior Murvin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Newcleus,
Sandy B,
Infiniti,
Marc Almond,
Warsaw,
Circle Jerks,
Joe Smooth,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Victims,
Al Stewart,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Suicide,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Radio Birdman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dark Day,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.