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 Mexico and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Sandy B to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Blues Magoos,
Erasure,
Pussy Galore,
Cabaret Voltaire,
New York Dolls,
Bobby Byrd,
Donald Byrd,
Easy Going,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Robert Hood,
Popol Vuh,
Dennis Brown,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sixth Finger,
Derrick May,
The Angels of Light,
Inner City,
Black Sheep,
Marcia Griffiths,
kango's stein massive,
Quantec,
Pole,
Agitation Free,
The Index,
The Leaves,
The Martian,
Kevin Saunderson,
Joe Finger,
Althea and Donna,
Dark Day,
a-ha,
U.S. Maple,
Radiohead,
The Blackbyrds,
Brothers Johnson,
Scrapy,
Underground Resistance,
Depeche Mode,
Desert Stars,
Stereo Dub,
Make Up,
The Mummies,
Mandrill,
Quadrant,
Sonic Youth,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mary Jane Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Seeds,
Schoolly D,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lou Christie,
Goldenarms,
Jeff Lynne,
F. McDonald,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pulsallama,
Fad Gadget,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.