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 Iran and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dual Sessions to the electroclash 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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Shadows of Knight,
The Black Dice,
Stereo Dub,
Make Up,
The Alarm Clocks,
Black Bananas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Metal Thangz,
Man Parrish,
The Sonics,
Neu!,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Dave Clark Five,
The American Breed,
The Five Americans,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joyce Sims,
Unrelated Segments,
Smog,
Guru Guru,
Spoonie Gee,
Ituana,
Vladislav Delay,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lucky Dragons,
Easy Going,
Dark Day,
Young Marble Giants,
The Gories,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tim Buckley,
Matthew Bourne,
MDC,
Albert Ayler,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Amon Düül II,
The Names,
KRS-One,
The Moody Blues,
Alice Coltrane,
Amon Düül,
Royal Trux,
Hashim,
Gil Scott Heron,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Tremeloes,
DNA,
Con Funk Shun,
Robert Hood,
The Move,
Wire,
The Standells,
Dorothy Ashby,
Girls At Our Best!,
Hardrive,
the Sonics,
Babytalk,
Crooked Eye,
The Smiths,
Magazine,
the Association,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.