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 Cameroon and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Second Layer to the rap 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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Public Enemy,
Nick Fraelich,
Hardrive,
The Tremeloes,
Todd Terry,
Lungfish,
Marvin Gaye,
Agent Orange,
The Smiths,
Robert Görl,
The Gories,
JFA,
Camouflage,
The Smoke,
Joey Negro,
Rites of Spring,
This Heat,
Pantytec,
Glenn Branca,
Quando Quango,
Crispy Ambulance,
Derrick Morgan,
The Kinks,
The Wake,
Warren Ellis,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Seeds,
The Velvet Underground,
Drexciya,
U.S. Maple,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nik Kershaw,
Crash Course in Science,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Spoonie Gee,
the Germs,
Tim Buckley,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Matthew Halsall,
Prince Buster,
The Star Department,
Aaron Thompson,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Harmonia,
Avey Tare,
Tommy Roe,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Selecter,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tomorrow,
Kayak,
Surgeon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hot Snakes,
Scratch Acid,
Eurythmics,
Susan Cadogan,
Desert Stars,
Electric Light Orchestra,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.