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 Montenegro and from Beijing.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Sao Paulo.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Technova 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?
DJ Style,
Lalann,
Bauhaus,
Kenny Larkin,
June Days,
The Stooges,
Television,
Dual Sessions,
Aaron Thompson,
Bush Tetras,
Harry Pussy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cheater Slicks,
Sun Ra,
The Happenings,
Cluster,
The Gap Band,
Gang Green,
Fluxion,
Siglo XX,
Hot Snakes,
Marc Almond,
Malaria!,
Toni Rubio,
Sarah Menescal,
the Germs,
Rakim,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Misunderstood,
New Order,
Easy Going,
The Wake,
Infiniti,
Ornette Coleman,
The Five Americans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
DJ Sneak,
Al Stewart,
Theoretical Girls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Andrew Hill,
Unrelated Segments,
Curtis Mayfield,
Intrusion,
The Electric Prunes,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Moon,
This Heat,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Cameo,
Johnny Clarke,
Soft Cell,
Blancmange,
Black Pus,
Tim Buckley,
Eric B and Rakim,
La Düsseldorf,
Fugazi,
Icehouse,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.