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 Niger and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Crispian St. Peters to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
The Kinks,
Adolescents,
Moby Grape,
Boz Scaggs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Spoonie Gee,
the Soft Cell,
Nik Kershaw,
Oblivians,
Stetsasonic,
Y Pants,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pylon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marmalade,
Metal Thangz,
the Swans,
Roger Hodgson,
Yusef Lateef,
Kevin Saunderson,
Television,
Godley & Creme,
The New Christs,
Max Romeo,
B.T. Express,
The Moleskins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Second Layer,
Nation of Ulysses,
Index,
Matthew Halsall,
The Fire Engines,
Zero Boys,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Doors,
Brand Nubian,
Maurizio,
Moebius,
Shuggie Otis,
Oneida,
The Black Dice,
The Golliwogs,
Deepchord,
Ronnie Foster,
Patti Smith,
Cecil Taylor,
FM Einheit,
Glambeats Corp.,
Organ,
Suicide,
Eli Mardock,
cv313,
Arab on Radar,
The Slits,
The Happenings,
Mars,
Unrelated Segments,
The Evens,
Skriet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.