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 Pakistan and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
The Red Krayola,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Golliwogs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Symarip,
Iggy Pop,
Tears for Fears,
Danielle Patucci,
Barbara Tucker,
Jeru the Damaja,
Cecil Taylor,
Deakin,
Pylon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Thee Headcoats,
Spandau Ballet,
Mad Mike,
Oneida,
Marc Almond,
Deepchord,
The Doors,
Tim Buckley,
Howard Jones,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Man Parrish,
Intrusion,
UT,
Chris Corsano,
Los Fastidios,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lungfish,
Minor Threat,
Lower 48,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Monks,
FM Einheit,
Althea and Donna,
Letta Mbulu,
Hardrive,
Skarface,
Alphaville,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Knickerbockers,
Outsiders,
Rotary Connection,
Anakelly,
Harry Pussy,
Slave,
Colin Newman,
Kenny Larkin,
The Saints,
The Mummies,
Livin' Joy,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.