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 Togo and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Star Department to the techno 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cluster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Mr. Review,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Blues Magoos,
Johnny Osbourne,
Swell Maps,
Scan 7,
Moebius,
Pussy Galore,
Make Up,
Banda Bassotti,
Brick,
The Tremeloes,
Neu!,
OOIOO,
Stetsasonic,
Man Parrish,
Tears for Fears,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pharoah Sanders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Martian,
Das Ding,
The Angels of Light,
Popol Vuh,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Robert Hood,
the Sonics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Supertramp,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Smoke,
Matthew Halsall,
New Age Steppers,
John Lydon,
Tomorrow,
Cal Tjader,
Lou Christie,
Scion,
La Düsseldorf,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barry Ungar,
The Dead C,
David Bowie,
Qualms,
June of 44,
Stiv Bators,
Fluxion,
the Soft Cell,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ultimate Spinach,
June Days,
Mantronix,
Porter Ricks,
The Human League,
Nirvana,
Moby Grape,
Scratch Acid,
Los Fastidios,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.