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 Iran and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Chris Corsano to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hardrive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Procol Harum,
Jacob Miller,
Smog,
ABC,
New York Dolls,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sällskapet,
D'Angelo,
Desert Stars,
Tom Boy,
Pere Ubu,
Henry Cow,
Altered Images,
Bobby Byrd,
The Martian,
Gong,
Depeche Mode,
Isaac Hayes,
The Fugs,
Drexciya,
Kas Product,
Los Fastidios,
Radiohead,
The Red Krayola,
Anthony Braxton,
The Fortunes,
Au Pairs,
Bobby Sherman,
UT,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rites of Spring,
The Monks,
Laurel Aitken,
The Sonics,
Kaleidoscope,
Letta Mbulu,
Joy Division,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scion,
Albert Ayler,
Faraquet,
Darondo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dave Gahan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Steve Hackett,
Maleditus Sound,
Freddie Wadling,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Tremeloes,
Piero Umiliani,
Soulsonic Force,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Standells,
The Divine Comedy,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.