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 Yemen and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Marvin Gaye to the dance 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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Dawn Penn,
The Mummies,
R.M.O.,
Interpol,
Glenn Branca,
The Alarm Clocks,
Visage,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Albert Ayler,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Arcadia,
Gang of Four,
The Index,
Reuben Wilson,
Marine Girls,
Joe Smooth,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Babytalk,
Ituana,
Slave,
Jeff Mills,
Fad Gadget,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Thompson Twins,
Crooked Eye,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wasted Youth,
Amazonics,
Wally Richardson,
Brick,
Donald Byrd,
Tubeway Army,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Nik Kershaw,
Altered Images,
Yazoo,
Skriet,
Derrick Morgan,
Barclay James Harvest,
John Lydon,
Circle Jerks,
Steve Hackett,
Cal Tjader,
Colin Newman,
DJ Style,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Absolute Body Control,
Pole,
Joyce Sims,
Scan 7,
Pussy Galore,
Suburban Knight,
Bootsy Collins,
Monks,
Lyres,
Marcia Griffiths,
Blancmange,
The Electric Prunes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
One Last Wish,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.