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 Luxembourg and from Manchester.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 DJ Sneak to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits 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 clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Rakim,
Sällskapet,
Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Thee Headcoats,
Symarip,
Lungfish,
Lucky Dragons,
The Divine Comedy,
Moebius,
Newcleus,
Bobby Byrd,
The Wake,
Surgeon,
Zapp,
Bronski Beat,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tears for Fears,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nas,
Spandau Ballet,
The Walker Brothers,
The Birthday Party,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ken Boothe,
DJ Sneak,
Sixth Finger,
the Bar-Kays,
Country Teasers,
Hoover,
Minny Pops,
DJ Style,
Terrestrial Tones,
U.S. Maple,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Stooges,
Fugazi,
The Fuzztones,
Theoretical Girls,
The Martian,
Robert Hood,
Deadbeat,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Brothers Johnson,
Pierre Henry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Joey Negro,
Steve Hackett,
Dennis Brown,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Donald Byrd,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Freddie Wadling,
June of 44,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeff Mills,
Pussy Galore,
Magazine,
The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group.
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.