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 East Timor and from New York.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Marshall Jefferson to the disco 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Livin' Joy,
Stetsasonic,
Dave Gahan,
Cameo,
Television,
Black Pus,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Raincoats,
Can,
The Last Poets,
Alton Ellis,
Popol Vuh,
The Mummies,
Eden Ahbez,
Sight & Sound,
The Gun Club,
Pierre Henry,
The Detroit Cobras,
Khruangbin,
Terry Callier,
Au Pairs,
Roy Ayers,
Pere Ubu,
Average White Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pylon,
Maleditus Sound,
Inner City,
The Trojans,
June of 44,
The Associates,
Swans,
Intrusion,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Skarface,
Lyres,
Moby Grape,
Joy Division,
Eric B and Rakim,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tears for Fears,
Minor Threat,
The Birthday Party,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Nick Fraelich,
Todd Rundgren,
Aaron Thompson,
The Blues Magoos,
cv313,
Yellowson,
Half Japanese,
Patti Smith,
Camouflage,
Barclay James Harvest,
Shoche,
La Düsseldorf,
Rapeman,
Bob Dylan,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.