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 Philippines and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bremen.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Misunderstood to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Skarface,
The Sonics,
Cheater Slicks,
Minor Threat,
Niagra,
Wire,
Junior Murvin,
Pylon,
Todd Terry,
Malaria!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Cure,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Soft Cell,
Archie Shepp,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Oneida,
Swell Maps,
New Age Steppers,
Dual Sessions,
E-Dancer,
Scott Walker,
Ken Boothe,
Fat Boys,
Panda Bear,
Curtis Mayfield,
The United States of America,
Mission of Burma,
F. McDonald,
kango's stein massive,
Eurythmics,
Liliput,
Eden Ahbez,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Divine Comedy,
David McCallum,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bang On A Can,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Spandau Ballet,
Rotary Connection,
Loose Ends,
Ronnie Foster,
Minny Pops,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Con Funk Shun,
OOIOO,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Moby Grape,
Aloha Tigers,
T. Rex,
Joy Division,
Reagan Youth,
Popol Vuh,
The Move,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.