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 Bangladesh and from Milan.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kenny Larkin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Divine Comedy,
Royal Trux,
Grey Daturas,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Intrusion,
Davy DMX,
The Cure,
Arthur Verocai,
Severed Heads,
Glenn Branca,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lucky Dragons,
Franke,
Bizarre Inc.,
Iggy Pop,
Marmalade,
Barry Ungar,
Joe Smooth,
Hardrive,
Gang Green,
Scratch Acid,
Make Up,
The Move,
Jacques Brel,
Eurythmics,
Slave,
Pylon,
The Happenings,
Quantec,
Crooked Eye,
Stockholm Monsters,
Symarip,
The Selecter,
Howard Jones,
Section 25,
Au Pairs,
Rotary Connection,
John Foxx,
Eric Dolphy,
The Seeds,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ten City,
The Knickerbockers,
New York Dolls,
The J.B.'s,
The Young Rascals,
Rod Modell,
PIL,
Minor Threat,
Talk Talk,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Pop Group,
Cluster,
Fat Boys,
Faraquet,
The Modern Lovers,
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.