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 Germany and from Spokane.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Freddie Wadling 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
The Fuzztones,
Derrick Morgan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pantaleimon,
The Dirtbombs,
Bauhaus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Sound,
Lou Reed,
Siglo XX,
Peter & Gordon,
Quando Quango,
Freddie Wadling,
the Germs,
Sällskapet,
Glambeats Corp.,
James White and The Blacks,
Susan Cadogan,
Model 500,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Star Department,
Glenn Branca,
JFA,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Lydon,
Barbara Tucker,
Dennis Brown,
Leonard Cohen,
Tubeway Army,
Al Stewart,
Little Man,
The Fall,
Peter and Kerry,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ralphi Rosario,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Q65,
The Mummies,
Absolute Body Control,
Maleditus Sound,
Tommy Roe,
Juan Atkins,
The Slackers,
Lungfish,
The Young Rascals,
Black Sheep,
Joe Smooth,
Minnie Riperton,
Piero Umiliani,
The Moody Blues,
A Certain Ratio,
Joensuu 1685,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Popol Vuh,
Scrapy,
Henry Cow,
Rites of Spring,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Martian,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soulsonic Force,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.