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 Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Remains to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Radiopuhelimet,
Deadbeat,
Thee Headcoats,
Ossler,
Japan,
Fear,
the Germs,
Symarip,
James White and The Blacks,
Idris Muhammad,
The Index,
Reuben Wilson,
Bang On A Can,
The Beau Brummels,
Mars,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Music Machine,
Lyres,
Y Pants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Pretty Things,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Motions,
Cheater Slicks,
The Raincoats,
The Victims,
Public Enemy,
Sex Pistols,
Eric Dolphy,
Kas Product,
David McCallum,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Holt,
Swans,
The Divine Comedy,
Al Stewart,
Moebius,
Outsiders,
Graham Central Station,
Drive Like Jehu,
Todd Rundgren,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ohio Players,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pantaleimon,
Steve Hackett,
the Slits,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yusef Lateef,
Sight & Sound,
Tres Demented,
Derrick Morgan,
Radio Birdman,
Tommy Roe,
Au Pairs,
Wasted Youth,
Rekid,
Yazoo,
Judy Mowatt,
Prince Buster,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.