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 Suriname and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 Los Fastidios to the rap 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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Depeche Mode,
Graham Central Station,
Maleditus Sound,
Carl Craig,
The Invisible,
The Sonics,
The Neon Judgement,
David Bowie,
Public Enemy,
The Grass Roots,
The Gun Club,
Susan Cadogan,
Arthur Verocai,
Blossom Toes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Little Man,
Soft Cell,
Bill Near,
Animal Collective,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bauhaus,
Arab on Radar,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marvin Gaye,
U.S. Maple,
Janne Schatter,
The Index,
the Bar-Kays,
X-102,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joensuu 1685,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Judy Mowatt,
In Retrospect,
Franke,
Crispian St. Peters,
Saccharine Trust,
Intrusion,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
the Human League,
Jeff Mills,
Deakin,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Slackers,
Jacques Brel,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bluetip,
Fat Boys,
Stiv Bators,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Main Source,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nico,
The Skatalites,
Ossler,
Alton Ellis,
Sparks,
Crash Course in Science,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.