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 Dominican Republic and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 oboe 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 DJ Sneak to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Todd Rundgren,
Monolake,
Crime,
Aaron Thompson,
T.S.O.L.,
Kerri Chandler,
James White and The Blacks,
Adolescents,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Piero Umiliani,
Joe Finger,
The Dirtbombs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Blake Baxter,
Lucky Dragons,
Amazonics,
Rakim,
Avey Tare,
Eli Mardock,
Stereo Dub,
Symarip,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Sonics,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Selecter,
Cluster,
Wire,
Angry Samoans,
Kenny Larkin,
Rosa Yemen,
The Doors,
Infiniti,
Yusef Lateef,
The Modern Lovers,
The Electric Prunes,
R.M.O.,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Marshall Jefferson,
Swans,
Black Flag,
Dead Boys,
Black Sheep,
Deadbeat,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Sound,
Johnny Osbourne,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gabor Szabo,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sight & Sound,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marine Girls,
Roxette,
Grey Daturas,
Ossler,
Television Personalities,
Chrome,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Patti Smith,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.