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 Israel and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manila.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Basic Channel to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
The Young Rascals,
Q65,
The Walker Brothers,
Symarip,
Jerry's Kids,
The Divine Comedy,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Moon,
Arab on Radar,
Tres Demented,
Siglo XX,
The Black Dice,
The Gladiators,
Yellowson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Grandmaster Flash,
Barry Ungar,
The Fugs,
Clear Light,
James White and The Blacks,
Nirvana,
B.T. Express,
The Last Poets,
Brick,
Dead Boys,
Icehouse,
Tom Boy,
Archie Shepp,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Sonics,
Accadde A,
The Velvet Underground,
Tim Buckley,
Kaleidoscope,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Scott Walker,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tubeway Army,
The Real Kids,
MC5,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gerry Rafferty,
Byron Stingily,
Traffic Nightmare,
Brothers Johnson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jawbox,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Move,
Scratch Acid,
Harmonia,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quadrant,
the Bar-Kays,
The Buckinghams,
Trumans Water,
Jandek,
Jeff Mills,
Blossom Toes,
Newcleus,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.