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 Guyana and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Saccharine Trust to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
Bill Near,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Womack,
Easy Going,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Carl Craig,
Monks,
Buzzcocks,
Con Funk Shun,
Faust,
Minnie Riperton,
Nas,
Mars,
Marc Almond,
Fluxion,
The Toasters,
The Knickerbockers,
Circle Jerks,
Tommy Roe,
Pussy Galore,
Chrome,
Yusef Lateef,
Infiniti,
Depeche Mode,
Silicon Teens,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gichy Dan,
Hashim,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gabor Szabo,
Joy Division,
Johnny Clarke,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Gladiators,
Malaria!,
Roxy Music,
Robert Hood,
a-ha,
Charles Mingus,
The Move,
Animal Collective,
Sex Pistols,
Moby Grape,
Talk Talk,
Young Marble Giants,
Freddie Wadling,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marvin Gaye,
Section 25,
Jacob Miller,
Quadrant,
Kerrie Biddell,
Matthew Bourne,
The Techniques,
Dennis Brown,
The Searchers,
Davy DMX,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Radio Birdman,
Dorothy Ashby,
Todd Terry,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.