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 Taiwan and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 guitar 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 B.T. Express to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Don Cherry,
Blake Baxter,
Tomorrow,
Juan Atkins,
Roxette,
Carl Craig,
Vladislav Delay,
Subhumans,
New Age Steppers,
Moby Grape,
The Stooges,
Vainqueur,
The Red Krayola,
Heaven 17,
Graham Central Station,
Nirvana,
Sun Ra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
cv313,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fire Engines,
ABC,
The Smiths,
Dark Day,
Isaac Hayes,
One Last Wish,
Ultra Naté,
Fad Gadget,
The Beau Brummels,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cybotron,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Doors,
The Selecter,
Grandmaster Flash,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Cowsills,
Minnie Riperton,
The Buckinghams,
Pierre Henry,
Make Up,
Smog,
Mad Mike,
The Shadows of Knight,
Donny Hathaway,
Howard Jones,
The Count Five,
Aswad,
Mr. Review,
Susan Cadogan,
Fear,
Dennis Brown,
Reuben Wilson,
Cal Tjader,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Music Machine,
the Human League,
Outsiders,
Matthew Bourne,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.