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 Kosovo and from London.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Man Eating Sloth to the crunk 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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Five Americans,
Cluster,
Sex Pistols,
The Slackers,
Mantronix,
Mo-Dettes,
Au Pairs,
the Soft Cell,
Boredoms,
Depeche Mode,
Banda Bassotti,
Boz Scaggs,
Joy Division,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cal Tjader,
Mars,
Alison Limerick,
Eddi Front,
Harry Pussy,
Bronski Beat,
Scratch Acid,
Derrick Morgan,
Eurythmics,
Technova,
Severed Heads,
Crash Course in Science,
Negative Approach,
the Association,
Aswad,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Schoolly D,
Qualms,
Hasil Adkins,
The Trojans,
Dark Day,
Tomorrow,
Subhumans,
Interpol,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jesper Dahlback,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lindisfarne,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Neon Judgement,
Barbara Tucker,
Make Up,
Sparks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sandy B,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jandek,
Michelle Simonal,
This Heat,
Roxette,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Techniques,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
ABC,
The Wake,
Talk Talk,
Sugar Minott,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.