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 Papua New Guinea and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Michael McDonald 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 Gang of Four 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
The Blackbyrds,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Human League,
Marine Girls,
Grauzone,
The Victims,
Tom Boy,
Procol Harum,
Inner City,
Nik Kershaw,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Morten Harket,
Quadrant,
Young Marble Giants,
Ronnie Foster,
EPMD,
Howard Jones,
Connie Case,
Chris Corsano,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Y Pants,
James White and The Blacks,
Crooked Eye,
Bad Manners,
the Swans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marvin Gaye,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Moebius,
Terry Callier,
Severed Heads,
Toni Rubio,
The Techniques,
Lakeside,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Sparks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Derrick May,
Country Teasers,
Pantaleimon,
Maurizio,
cv313,
Unwound,
Liliput,
Franke,
Nas,
Wire,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Pretty Things,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Adolescents,
Janne Schatter,
Aural Exciters,
Davy DMX,
Nirvana,
Gabor Szabo,
Vainqueur,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.