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 Congo and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Stockholm.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 This Heat to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
The Dirtbombs,
Yazoo,
Fela Kuti,
Frankie Knuckles,
Connie Case,
Brick,
Thompson Twins,
Gregory Isaacs,
Make Up,
The Associates,
Scion,
The Cure,
Public Image Ltd.,
Cheater Slicks,
Charles Mingus,
Pagans,
China Crisis,
the Soft Cell,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Morten Harket,
The Count Five,
Stiv Bators,
Minny Pops,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The American Breed,
Archie Shepp,
The Tremeloes,
Joy Division,
Lungfish,
The Young Rascals,
Sex Pistols,
Malaria!,
a-ha,
Kurtis Blow,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eddi Front,
Jacob Miller,
Rufus Thomas,
John Foxx,
The Moleskins,
The Smoke,
The Gun Club,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terrestrial Tones,
Maleditus Sound,
Skriet,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Big Daddy Kane,
Negative Approach,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Howard Jones,
Iggy Pop,
The Fall,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Donny Hathaway,
Crash Course in Science,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Fugs,
Sugar Minott,
Ten City,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.