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 Netherlands and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Derrick May to the dance 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 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?
Tom Boy,
the Slits,
Alison Limerick,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nirvana,
Vladislav Delay,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Grey Daturas,
Talk Talk,
Idris Muhammad,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Los Fastidios,
Skarface,
Soft Machine,
Al Stewart,
John Coltrane,
John Lydon,
Derrick Morgan,
Angry Samoans,
Robert Görl,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fluxion,
Audionom,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Deakin,
James Chance & The Contortions,
CMW,
Mad Mike,
Wasted Youth,
Wally Richardson,
Severed Heads,
Leonard Cohen,
Bill Wells,
Todd Terry,
Supertramp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Harry Pussy,
Pantaleimon,
Gabor Szabo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
New Order,
In Retrospect,
Mary Jane Girls,
Reuben Wilson,
Jeff Lynne,
Masters at Work,
Grandmaster Flash,
Minutemen,
Eve St. Jones,
48th St. Collective,
Gichy Dan,
Letta Mbulu,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rotary Connection,
The Pop Group,
Crime,
EPMD,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Buckinghams,
Rod Modell,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.