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 Somalia and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Quantec to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Ponytail,
Q and Not U,
Flipper,
Young Marble Giants,
Roy Ayers,
Harry Pussy,
Angry Samoans,
The Dirtbombs,
Absolute Body Control,
F. McDonald,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Chris & Cosey,
The Black Dice,
Japan,
Yazoo,
Roxette,
Anthony Braxton,
Sexual Harrassment,
Curtis Mayfield,
Max Romeo,
The Litter,
The Names,
Crooked Eye,
Gang of Four,
Slave,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Zero Boys,
Altered Images,
Porter Ricks,
The Toasters,
Clear Light,
a-ha,
Bauhaus,
Guru Guru,
Man Eating Sloth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ice-T,
Bobby Byrd,
The Divine Comedy,
Nick Fraelich,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nirvana,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Fortunes,
Soul II Soul,
Junior Murvin,
The Gories,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Neon Judgement,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bill Near,
China Crisis,
Gang Gang Dance,
Zapp,
Lalann,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Shoche,
The Buckinghams,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.