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 Slovakia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Woodstock and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sixth Finger to the techno 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
OOIOO,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tears for Fears,
Pantaleimon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jacques Brel,
John Holt,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bobby Hutcherson,
DJ Sneak,
Piero Umiliani,
Hardrive,
Minor Threat,
48th St. Collective,
The American Breed,
a-ha,
The Offenders,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Godley & Creme,
Bronski Beat,
The Index,
Flipper,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Con Funk Shun,
The Tremeloes,
New Order,
Spoonie Gee,
Simply Red,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Grauzone,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Alton Ellis,
Radiohead,
Gang of Four,
Outsiders,
The Trojans,
Adolescents,
Roxy Music,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Basic Channel,
Sonic Youth,
Masters at Work,
Television,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Urselle,
Matthew Bourne,
The Stooges,
Drexciya,
Lindisfarne,
The Red Krayola,
Mad Mike,
Blancmange,
Schoolly D,
Bobby Sherman,
Soft Machine,
the Association,
Lakeside,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.