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 Uganda and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Seoul.
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 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 Donald Fagen 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Davy DMX,
Glenn Branca,
June of 44,
Make Up,
The Cowsills,
Ituana,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bang On A Can,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mad Mike,
The Neon Judgement,
Judy Mowatt,
Cecil Taylor,
Talk Talk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ronan,
Shoche,
Depeche Mode,
Susan Cadogan,
Arab on Radar,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gichy Dan,
The Knickerbockers,
Grey Daturas,
The New Christs,
Radiohead,
Guru Guru,
Leonard Cohen,
Maurizio,
Barbara Tucker,
Accadde A,
Crime,
Essential Logic,
Massinfluence,
Amon Düül II,
Gabor Szabo,
The Pretty Things,
Anthony Braxton,
Moss Icon,
The Offenders,
Hardrive,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Dead C,
Visage,
Max Romeo,
Siglo XX,
Eric Copeland,
Spandau Ballet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gang Starr,
Dual Sessions,
Charles Mingus,
Kaleidoscope,
Wings,
Flipper,
Warsaw,
The Selecter,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Loose Ends,
Sex Pistols,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sparks,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.