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 Guatemala and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 clarinet 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 Harpers Bizarre to the jazz 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
Jeff Mills,
Crispy Ambulance,
Neil Young,
Pantaleimon,
Tim Buckley,
Sällskapet,
Icehouse,
The American Breed,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Deepchord,
Depeche Mode,
The Busters,
Piero Umiliani,
Quando Quango,
Public Image Ltd.,
Can,
K-Klass,
Eden Ahbez,
The United States of America,
Carl Craig,
The Misunderstood,
Al Stewart,
The Dave Clark Five,
Intrusion,
Unrelated Segments,
Pussy Galore,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Grandmaster Flash,
B.T. Express,
Lindisfarne,
Monolake,
Alison Limerick,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Chris Corsano,
Sex Pistols,
Banda Bassotti,
Henry Cow,
Marc Almond,
La Düsseldorf,
Howard Jones,
Wolf Eyes,
Rosa Yemen,
China Crisis,
Skarface,
Althea and Donna,
The Beau Brummels,
Joyce Sims,
Robert Hood,
Babytalk,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Move,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
MC5,
Cheater Slicks,
Bootsy Collins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Grass Roots,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.