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 Togo and from Bremen.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 John Lydon to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
The Dead C,
Throbbing Gristle,
Delta 5,
Sex Pistols,
The Monks,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bluetip,
Camouflage,
Crooked Eye,
Jeru the Damaja,
Blossom Toes,
The Move,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Doors,
New York Dolls,
Boz Scaggs,
John Cale,
The Neon Judgement,
Malaria!,
Arcadia,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sandy B,
The Martian,
Colin Newman,
Angry Samoans,
Flash Fearless,
Q and Not U,
Stiv Bators,
Hot Snakes,
Lyres,
The Residents,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Second Layer,
Negative Approach,
Lalann,
The Walker Brothers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marine Girls,
Talk Talk,
Josef K,
Qualms,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rekid,
Section 25,
Agent Orange,
Organ,
Erykah Badu,
The Motions,
Khruangbin,
Henry Cow,
Royal Trux,
Derrick Morgan,
Eve St. Jones,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare,
Faust,
Joe Finger,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.