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 Turkey and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mr. Review to the techno 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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
The Vogues,
June of 44,
Scratch Acid,
Gong,
Public Enemy,
the Sonics,
Adolescents,
Buzzcocks,
Masters at Work,
Surgeon,
Henry Cow,
The Gladiators,
Bush Tetras,
The Moody Blues,
Marshall Jefferson,
Index,
The United States of America,
DJ Style,
Carl Craig,
Electric Prunes,
Fat Boys,
Pere Ubu,
Faust,
Jerry Gold Smith,
UT,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wally Richardson,
Bootsy Collins,
Hardrive,
Audionom,
Bobby Sherman,
L. Decosne,
Connie Case,
Tom Boy,
DJ Sneak,
Eden Ahbez,
10cc,
The Index,
Alton Ellis,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ponytail,
Sam Rivers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rites of Spring,
The Smiths,
Rod Modell,
Mandrill,
Pylon,
Gabor Szabo,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
T.S.O.L.,
Ten City,
Kerri Chandler,
Archie Shepp,
Pet Shop Boys,
Donald Byrd,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Swans,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.