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 El Salvador and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Lindisfarne to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Siglo XX,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Walker Brothers,
Max Romeo,
The Index,
Eric Copeland,
the Swans,
Gang Gang Dance,
Stockholm Monsters,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Camouflage,
The Move,
Moby Grape,
Saccharine Trust,
Subhumans,
Lucky Dragons,
The J.B.'s,
The Shadows of Knight,
Connie Case,
Desert Stars,
Echospace,
The Motions,
the Germs,
Barry Ungar,
Tommy Roe,
June Days,
Man Parrish,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ronan,
Au Pairs,
The Associates,
The Names,
Reagan Youth,
Simply Red,
Altered Images,
Colin Newman,
Moebius,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Wally Richardson,
Los Fastidios,
The Kinks,
Pylon,
E-Dancer,
The Litter,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Urselle,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Sheep,
David Axelrod,
Neu!,
Funky Four + One,
The Dead C,
Clear Light,
The Gun Club,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Negative Approach,
Matthew Halsall,
Franke,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.