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 Tonga and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 linndrum 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 Aural Exciters to the jazz 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
CMW,
Stetsasonic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Associates,
the Fania All-Stars,
Robert Wyatt,
The Pop Group,
Yaz,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ronnie Foster,
James White and The Blacks,
The Gladiators,
Kerri Chandler,
Minnie Riperton,
Aural Exciters,
Soft Cell,
Throbbing Gristle,
Terrestrial Tones,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Byrd,
Archie Shepp,
Public Enemy,
Spandau Ballet,
John Holt,
Wasted Youth,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bill Wells,
Nils Olav,
Ultra Naté,
Crispian St. Peters,
Judy Mowatt,
Circle Jerks,
Q and Not U,
The Last Poets,
Swell Maps,
The Seeds,
The Divine Comedy,
Eli Mardock,
Scan 7,
The Cramps,
Bush Tetras,
Cluster,
These Immortal Souls,
The Five Americans,
DNA,
U.S. Maple,
Alton Ellis,
Alice Coltrane,
Blake Baxter,
Scion,
The Vogues,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pulsallama,
The Real Kids,
Young Marble Giants,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.