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 Zambia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 oboe 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 The Flesh Eaters to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Techniques,
Public Image Ltd.,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Dead Boys,
Lou Reed,
New Order,
Main Source,
Severed Heads,
Slave,
Pussy Galore,
The Gladiators,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Boredoms,
Easy Going,
The Gap Band,
Alice Coltrane,
Zapp,
Harpers Bizarre,
Minor Threat,
The Sonics,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Names,
Harry Pussy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roy Ayers,
Hashim,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Piero Umiliani,
Tommy Roe,
The Young Rascals,
Cecil Taylor,
Shoche,
Organ,
Isaac Hayes,
H. Thieme,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Urselle,
Mark Hollis,
Electric Prunes,
The Invisible,
Cheater Slicks,
Lee Hazlewood,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Raincoats,
Alphaville,
The Buckinghams,
Cybotron,
Gang Green,
Bob Dylan,
Nas,
Monks,
Jacob Miller,
Mission of Burma,
The Selecter,
The Real Kids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.