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 Indonesia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Paris.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Howard Jones to the crunk 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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Organ,
Babytalk,
The Happenings,
the Germs,
Hot Snakes,
Guru Guru,
Barbara Tucker,
The Dirtbombs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stiv Bators,
Main Source,
Fela Kuti,
The Star Department,
Hardrive,
Judy Mowatt,
The Martian,
Pole,
Brick,
Los Fastidios,
Tim Buckley,
The Sound,
Nas,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Normal,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lindisfarne,
World's Most,
Lalann,
Interpol,
X-102,
Clear Light,
Stetsasonic,
Thompson Twins,
The Modern Lovers,
Joe Smooth,
Swell Maps,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Surgeon,
The Five Americans,
Spoonie Gee,
Infiniti,
Lucky Dragons,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bang On A Can,
The Wake,
The Smiths,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pere Ubu,
CMW,
Marmalade,
Patti Smith,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Donny Hathaway,
Ken Boothe,
Albert Ayler,
Morten Harket,
Eric B and Rakim,
Subhumans,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.