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 Libya and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 Howard Jones to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Nirvana,
The Pop Group,
Don Cherry,
LL Cool J,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gabor Szabo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Loose Ends,
Mars,
Ituana,
Tomorrow,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Procol Harum,
Susan Cadogan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Fat Boys,
Sexual Harrassment,
Guru Guru,
Deepchord,
Minnie Riperton,
Piero Umiliani,
Lungfish,
Schoolly D,
Agent Orange,
Soft Machine,
B.T. Express,
New Age Steppers,
The New Christs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Skriet,
Cecil Taylor,
The Young Rascals,
Scan 7,
Parry Music,
Niagra,
The Invisible,
Radio Birdman,
Minutemen,
Maurizio,
Dark Day,
Davy DMX,
The Real Kids,
Kerrie Biddell,
Smog,
John Foxx,
JFA,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kaleidoscope,
Ponytail,
The Alarm Clocks,
Buzzcocks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Main Source,
Dead Boys,
Gang of Four,
48th St. Collective,
Warsaw,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.