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 South Africa and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 marimba 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 Crash Course in Science to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Deakin,
Wings,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
UT,
Accadde A,
Carl Craig,
Barbara Tucker,
Rites of Spring,
Ultimate Spinach,
Arab on Radar,
Throbbing Gristle,
Theoretical Girls,
Bush Tetras,
Jacob Miller,
The Flesh Eaters,
New Age Steppers,
John Holt,
Scratch Acid,
Joe Smooth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pantytec,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Seeds,
H. Thieme,
Sex Pistols,
The Misunderstood,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Doors,
Smog,
Pole,
Malaria!,
Television,
Roxette,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Radiopuhelimet,
Motorama,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Loose Ends,
Black Pus,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Normal,
Nico,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Busters,
Angry Samoans,
Crime,
Lungfish,
DJ Style,
Deepchord,
Brand Nubian,
Hoover,
Faust,
Metal Thangz,
Juan Atkins,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ultra Naté,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Flag,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Suburban Knight,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.