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 Madagascar and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick Morgan,
Royal Trux,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Archie Shepp,
Harmonia,
Wally Richardson,
Bob Dylan,
Minutemen,
Lalo Schifrin,
DJ Style,
Freddie Wadling,
Sexual Harrassment,
Severed Heads,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Sound,
Silicon Teens,
Hashim,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hot Snakes,
Lower 48,
Section 25,
Iggy Pop,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Malaria!,
The Mummies,
KRS-One,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mo-Dettes,
Surgeon,
Scan 7,
The Zeros,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Barry Ungar,
Ronan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Electric Prunes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Remains,
Cluster,
Procol Harum,
Bush Tetras,
the Germs,
Rakim,
Excepter,
Arcadia,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Echospace,
Alton Ellis,
PIL,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fad Gadget,
Lindisfarne,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Howard Jones,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pet Shop Boys,
These Immortal Souls,
Ituana,
Byron Stingily,
Laurel Aitken,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.