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 Liechtenstein and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Columbus.
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 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 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 The Angels of Light to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
Dawn Penn,
Slick Rick,
Surgeon,
Roxette,
Minny Pops,
Q65,
Mars,
The Fire Engines,
Liliput,
Pantytec,
Camberwell Now,
Lucky Dragons,
Frankie Knuckles,
Drexciya,
Neu!,
Sam Rivers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Sherman,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Oblivians,
Sandy B,
David McCallum,
Yellowson,
Wasted Youth,
Malaria!,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Charles Mingus,
Spoonie Gee,
T.S.O.L.,
Wally Richardson,
Isaac Hayes,
Michelle Simonal,
H. Thieme,
Heaven 17,
Sixth Finger,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ronan,
Archie Shepp,
The Mighty Diamonds,
June Days,
Harmonia,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mark Hollis,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aural Exciters,
The Modern Lovers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ice-T,
Lungfish,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tommy Roe,
Nils Olav,
John Foxx,
Minor Threat,
B.T. Express,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.