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 Mozambique and from Glasgow.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 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 Mr. Review to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Pet Shop Boys,
Albert Ayler,
Second Layer,
Malaria!,
Black Moon,
Neu!,
The Trojans,
Chrome,
The Associates,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gang Green,
Terrestrial Tones,
FM Einheit,
The United States of America,
Essential Logic,
Newcleus,
Henry Cow,
The Velvet Underground,
Hashim,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Television Personalities,
Marvin Gaye,
Make Up,
The Birthday Party,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Qualms,
Rakim,
Lightning Bolt,
Arthur Verocai,
Black Flag,
Ponytail,
Loose Ends,
Dawn Penn,
H. Thieme,
Lucky Dragons,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Blossom Toes,
the Sonics,
The Gories,
Darondo,
Depeche Mode,
a-ha,
Electric Prunes,
PIL,
Rites of Spring,
Mantronix,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Todd Rundgren,
A Certain Ratio,
Jacob Miller,
Wings,
Gerry Rafferty,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Modern Lovers,
Andrew Hill,
Chris & Cosey,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.