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 Bahrain and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manchester.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Frankie Knuckles to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Isaac Hayes,
Laurel Aitken,
Excepter,
Talk Talk,
The Raincoats,
Desert Stars,
Inner City,
Boogie Down Productions,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun Ra,
Janne Schatter,
Wally Richardson,
Agent Orange,
Chris Corsano,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Hot Snakes,
Blossom Toes,
Reuben Wilson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Connie Case,
Dark Day,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Flash Fearless,
Gil Scott Heron,
Prince Buster,
the Fania All-Stars,
Smog,
Panda Bear,
The Red Krayola,
The Wake,
Juan Atkins,
The Velvet Underground,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Sonics,
Marmalade,
The New Christs,
Bronski Beat,
John Lydon,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
La Düsseldorf,
Mr. Review,
Silicon Teens,
Technova,
Heaven 17,
Adolescents,
Roger Hodgson,
Matthew Halsall,
Tom Boy,
T. Rex,
Mars,
Tommy Roe,
The Fuzztones,
The Slackers,
Brand Nubian,
The Motions,
Yellowson,
DJ Sneak,
Mandrill,
Sex Pistols,
The Grass Roots,
Mark Hollis,
Minutemen,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.