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 Uzbekistan and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Marc Almond to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Glenn Branca,
Theoretical Girls,
Intrusion,
Los Fastidios,
Aaron Thompson,
48th St. Collective,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aural Exciters,
Whodini,
Bang On A Can,
DJ Style,
Anthony Braxton,
Slave,
the Sonics,
Bush Tetras,
Gang Green,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Altered Images,
The Young Rascals,
Robert Hood,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fire Engines,
Saccharine Trust,
Mark Hollis,
Model 500,
KRS-One,
Ultra Naté,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Michelle Simonal,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fortunes,
Eric Dolphy,
Alphaville,
The Buckinghams,
Clear Light,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Wolf Eyes,
the Association,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lucky Dragons,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
8 Eyed Spy,
Excepter,
DJ Sneak,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Von Mondo,
June of 44,
Gang Starr,
The Offenders,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pole,
Ossler,
H. Thieme,
Harmonia,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.