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 Korea South and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 arpeggiator 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 The Flesh Eaters to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
LL Cool J,
Suicide,
Barclay James Harvest,
Joe Finger,
Arab on Radar,
Dead Boys,
Interpol,
The Sound,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
KRS-One,
June of 44,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Human League,
CMW,
Vladislav Delay,
Aswad,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sixth Finger,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sparks,
Gong,
The Sonics,
Lalann,
Crispy Ambulance,
DNA,
Kurtis Blow,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Golliwogs,
The Remains,
Ponytail,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Echospace,
Peter and Kerry,
Main Source,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The New Christs,
The Techniques,
Skarface,
Tomorrow,
Barry Ungar,
Dark Day,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Hashim,
48th St. Collective,
Kenny Larkin,
Jacques Brel,
Fad Gadget,
Lakeside,
Simply Red,
Bronski Beat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Shuggie Otis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Fluxion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Cowsills,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sun Ra,
Trumans Water,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.