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 Finland and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Velvet Underground to the crunk 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
New Age Steppers,
Malaria!,
Second Layer,
Siglo XX,
Scan 7,
Hasil Adkins,
Junior Murvin,
Little Man,
Brand Nubian,
Circle Jerks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Black Dice,
The Dirtbombs,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lyres,
Fat Boys,
Tommy Roe,
Interpol,
Gang Gang Dance,
Alison Limerick,
Mantronix,
Susan Cadogan,
Rekid,
Kaleidoscope,
The Angels of Light,
Fugazi,
Reuben Wilson,
Accadde A,
Magazine,
David Axelrod,
The Cowsills,
8 Eyed Spy,
Alphaville,
The Buckinghams,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Fatback Band,
Mandrill,
Bad Manners,
Barbara Tucker,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Robert Görl,
Smog,
the Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blossom Toes,
F. McDonald,
Sonic Youth,
James White and The Blacks,
Parry Music,
Dawn Penn,
Moss Icon,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Arcadia,
Visage,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Carl Craig,
Franke,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Human League,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.