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 Malawi and from Delhi.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Tommy Roe to the punk 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Slackers,
Drexciya,
Graham Central Station,
Ohio Players,
The United States of America,
China Crisis,
Letta Mbulu,
The Fall,
Rotary Connection,
Mr. Review,
Sixth Finger,
Peter & Gordon,
Byron Stingily,
Albert Ayler,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Monochrome Set,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mission of Burma,
Eden Ahbez,
Ultimate Spinach,
Scan 7,
Rufus Thomas,
Warren Ellis,
Severed Heads,
Porter Ricks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lou Reed,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rod Modell,
Pierre Henry,
Swans,
the Swans,
Isaac Hayes,
The Star Department,
The Gun Club,
Black Pus,
Dual Sessions,
The Moleskins,
Blake Baxter,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
AZ,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Y Pants,
Easy Going,
OOIOO,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gong,
Nick Fraelich,
Trumans Water,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kas Product,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Womack,
Susan Cadogan,
Ituana,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Young Rascals,
Arab on Radar,
The Residents,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.