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 Poland and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Blancmange to the funk 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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
Pet Shop Boys,
New York Dolls,
48th St. Collective,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crispy Ambulance,
Khruangbin,
Man Eating Sloth,
DJ Style,
Can,
Oneida,
The J.B.'s,
Fluxion,
The Birthday Party,
Ten City,
Magma,
The Cure,
Pylon,
Negative Approach,
Wasted Youth,
Ken Boothe,
Deepchord,
X-101,
Joy Division,
The Human League,
Maleditus Sound,
Make Up,
The Dirtbombs,
The Young Rascals,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pantaleimon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Von Mondo,
The Doors,
Subhumans,
Chris Corsano,
Marshall Jefferson,
Janne Schatter,
U.S. Maple,
Prince Buster,
Tubeway Army,
Ituana,
Bronski Beat,
Cheater Slicks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
E-Dancer,
Black Moon,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tres Demented,
Drive Like Jehu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Blossom Toes,
Oblivians,
Minnie Riperton,
New Order,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brass Construction,
Fat Boys,
Jesper Dahlback,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.