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 Ghana and from Seoul.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Depeche Mode 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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül II,
Juan Atkins,
The Stooges,
MDC,
The Angels of Light,
Pussy Galore,
Eurythmics,
Josef K,
Maurizio,
Grauzone,
the Soft Cell,
Neu!,
Massinfluence,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ituana,
Echospace,
Bobby Sherman,
Tim Buckley,
Fugazi,
The Gap Band,
DNA,
Avey Tare,
Nico,
Buzzcocks,
The Gories,
The Smoke,
The Offenders,
D'Angelo,
Sarah Menescal,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eddi Front,
The Red Krayola,
Brothers Johnson,
Alison Limerick,
David Axelrod,
Johnny Clarke,
the Normal,
Rekid,
Malaria!,
Lungfish,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Gladiators,
Sandy B,
Aloha Tigers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gichy Dan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Skatalites,
Mr. Review,
the Germs,
Alphaville,
The Invisible,
The Smiths,
Toni Rubio,
Au Pairs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bauhaus,
F. McDonald,
Bizarre Inc.,
Dawn Penn,
Marcia Griffiths,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.