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 Malawi and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Glenn Branca to the techno 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Gang of Four,
Prince Buster,
Los Fastidios,
Dave Gahan,
The Motions,
Outsiders,
Panda Bear,
Trumans Water,
Danielle Patucci,
Vainqueur,
the Normal,
Pharoah Sanders,
Michelle Simonal,
the Fania All-Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
The Smiths,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Can,
Swell Maps,
Rekid,
Sister Nancy,
Parry Music,
Thompson Twins,
Camouflage,
Mantronix,
Idris Muhammad,
Davy DMX,
The Velvet Underground,
The Misunderstood,
Absolute Body Control,
The Invisible,
B.T. Express,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Alison Limerick,
Iggy Pop,
The Names,
Whodini,
Avey Tare,
Frankie Knuckles,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Five Americans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Groovy Waters,
Metal Thangz,
48th St. Collective,
New Order,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Star Department,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Kinks,
The Young Rascals,
Carl Craig,
Bang On A Can,
Cameo,
Dark Day,
Hardrive,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Desert Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
Howard Jones,
Wolf Eyes,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.