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 Azerbaijan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Chris Corsano to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers 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?
Kevin Saunderson,
The Last Poets,
Ludus,
Skaos,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Banda Bassotti,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Moebius,
Tres Demented,
Negative Approach,
Thompson Twins,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lou Christie,
Aural Exciters,
Hasil Adkins,
One Last Wish,
Royal Trux,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Suicide,
Nas,
Aswad,
Fat Boys,
Magazine,
Pantaleimon,
Cheater Slicks,
Average White Band,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
10cc,
Scientists,
AZ,
Pharoah Sanders,
Metal Thangz,
Freddie Wadling,
Kurtis Blow,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Excepter,
The Stooges,
Severed Heads,
Essential Logic,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
H. Thieme,
The Mummies,
World's Most,
Flash Fearless,
Ornette Coleman,
Fugazi,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tubeway Army,
Robert Hood,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sparks,
Erasure,
The Beau Brummels,
Quando Quango,
Mars,
The Happenings,
Minutemen,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.