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 Turkmenistan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Mission of Burma to the techno 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
OOIOO,
Derrick May,
The Toasters,
Fat Boys,
The Selecter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Patti Smith,
B.T. Express,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mark Hollis,
Oblivians,
the Sonics,
Fad Gadget,
Underground Resistance,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Smiths,
Idris Muhammad,
Brass Construction,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
David Axelrod,
Radio Birdman,
The Black Dice,
Mission of Burma,
Barrington Levy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Detroit Cobras,
Soul Sonic Force,
Adolescents,
Girls At Our Best!,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Japan,
Jandek,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Donny Hathaway,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eric Copeland,
Joy Division,
Ponytail,
Second Layer,
Brick,
Suicide,
Bootsy Collins,
Desert Stars,
Blancmange,
Sandy B,
Charles Mingus,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sparks,
Buzzcocks,
The Offenders,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Absolute Body Control,
Barbara Tucker,
Lindisfarne,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Warsaw,
Circle Jerks,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.