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 Marshall Islands and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 John Cale to the jazz 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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
The Angels of Light,
The Real Kids,
The Walker Brothers,
Nik Kershaw,
June of 44,
Hoover,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Dual Sessions,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Maleditus Sound,
The Blackbyrds,
Boredoms,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bobby Sherman,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Matthew Halsall,
Black Pus,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kevin Saunderson,
Roger Hodgson,
John Coltrane,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Unwound,
Mark Hollis,
The Seeds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Section 25,
Max Romeo,
Ronan,
UT,
Spandau Ballet,
Bill Wells,
Patti Smith,
Harmonia,
Kayak,
Malaria!,
B.T. Express,
X-102,
Fugazi,
Whodini,
Steve Hackett,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Faust,
Gichy Dan,
Bootsy Collins,
The Litter,
Goldenarms,
The Music Machine,
Dave Gahan,
The Slits,
Visage,
Arab on Radar,
Heaven 17,
Sun Ra,
Mad Mike,
Negative Approach,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Janne Schatter,
Jeff Mills,
Soulsonic Force,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.