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 South Sudan and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 synthesizer 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 Magazine to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Marcia Griffiths,
Anthony Braxton,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cymande,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Underground Resistance,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dave Gahan,
Yellowson,
Gong,
Lyres,
Ralphi Rosario,
John Lydon,
Scion,
Smog,
Tom Boy,
The Litter,
Bad Manners,
Excepter,
The Smoke,
The Music Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kurtis Blow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
L. Decosne,
Davy DMX,
The Evens,
The Cramps,
Supertramp,
The Angels of Light,
Das Ding,
The Human League,
Jacob Miller,
Mars,
The Slits,
Cal Tjader,
DNA,
The United States of America,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bob Dylan,
Hot Snakes,
Nation of Ulysses,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Index,
Icehouse,
Inner City,
Scott Walker,
Faust,
Crispy Ambulance,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Monochrome Set,
Siglo XX,
In Retrospect,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sparks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sight & Sound,
Kaleidoscope,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.