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 Maldives and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar 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 H. Thieme to the grunge 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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Isaac Hayes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Kayak,
Masters at Work,
The Red Krayola,
Deadbeat,
Ice-T,
Radio Birdman,
Circle Jerks,
Quadrant,
This Heat,
Iggy Pop,
Warsaw,
Hoover,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Throbbing Gristle,
FM Einheit,
The Wake,
Soul II Soul,
Piero Umiliani,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crime,
Thee Headcoats,
Terrestrial Tones,
Section 25,
Japan,
Jeff Mills,
The Smiths,
Adolescents,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sex Pistols,
Barrington Levy,
Alton Ellis,
The Count Five,
The Standells,
T. Rex,
The Cowsills,
Brothers Johnson,
Eden Ahbez,
Fela Kuti,
Fugazi,
Arthur Verocai,
L. Decosne,
Moss Icon,
Lou Reed,
Pussy Galore,
the Soft Cell,
Los Fastidios,
Ultravox,
Gabor Szabo,
Scott Walker,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Fugs,
Marshall Jefferson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Quantec,
The Black Dice,
Kas Product,
Kool Moe Dee,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.