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 Brunei and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Interpol to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Man Parrish,
Crime,
The Mojo Men,
Dark Day,
Chris & Cosey,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Shadows of Knight,
Roger Hodgson,
The Slackers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Agitation Free,
Subhumans,
48th St. Collective,
Organ,
Grey Daturas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kerri Chandler,
The Fugs,
Blossom Toes,
Wasted Youth,
Clear Light,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kaleidoscope,
Magazine,
Jeff Mills,
The Selecter,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ralphi Rosario,
Joey Negro,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Golliwogs,
The Standells,
Toni Rubio,
Echospace,
Brothers Johnson,
Dave Gahan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ohio Players,
Mantronix,
Severed Heads,
The Gun Club,
Jacob Miller,
Simply Red,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Idris Muhammad,
Quantec,
Second Layer,
New Age Steppers,
Malaria!,
the Soft Cell,
The Move,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Suicide,
Graham Central Station,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Mummies,
Arcadia,
Suburban Knight,
June Days,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.