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 Estonia and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Model 500 to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
The Slackers,
Half Japanese,
Liliput,
Marvin Gaye,
Mr. Review,
Sandy B,
Jacques Brel,
The Associates,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Five Americans,
Howard Jones,
Electric Prunes,
Agent Orange,
Lakeside,
Suburban Knight,
Sonny Sharrock,
Adolescents,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Metal Thangz,
Freddie Wadling,
Fugazi,
David Bowie,
Ultravox,
Angry Samoans,
The Stooges,
Pussy Galore,
Magma,
8 Eyed Spy,
Michelle Simonal,
Mad Mike,
The Fuzztones,
Urselle,
Eurythmics,
The Smoke,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wolf Eyes,
Symarip,
Peter & Gordon,
Nik Kershaw,
Kaleidoscope,
Barry Ungar,
June of 44,
The Trojans,
Scrapy,
Au Pairs,
Alice Coltrane,
Depeche Mode,
Can,
Eddi Front,
Lightning Bolt,
Dark Day,
Harry Pussy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Monks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Darondo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Steve Hackett,
Johnny Osbourne,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.