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 Gambia and from Accra.
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 London and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Index 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
World's Most,
the Germs,
Altered Images,
Scion,
Graham Central Station,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
a-ha,
Charles Mingus,
The Durutti Column,
The Real Kids,
The Evens,
Aloha Tigers,
The Barracudas,
Swans,
The Selecter,
Morten Harket,
Gong,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bush Tetras,
Amon Düül,
Kas Product,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Invisible,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barry Ungar,
Scratch Acid,
Scan 7,
Eric Copeland,
Television,
Fat Boys,
Ossler,
Bang On A Can,
Brand Nubian,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Roger Hodgson,
The Saints,
Bronski Beat,
John Lydon,
Liliput,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Drexciya,
Pagans,
Gregory Isaacs,
JFA,
The Velvet Underground,
The Litter,
Todd Rundgren,
Franke,
Technova,
Index,
the Fania All-Stars,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Soul Sonic Force,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang of Four,
Black Sheep,
The Fugs,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.