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 Lithuania and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 chamberlin 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 Victims to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
John Cale,
Roger Hodgson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dawn Penn,
Sonic Youth,
Wire,
Henry Cow,
The Selecter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marvin Gaye,
Man Eating Sloth,
Amazonics,
DJ Style,
Electric Prunes,
T. Rex,
Bobby Sherman,
Minutemen,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Raincoats,
Joy Division,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sight & Sound,
Bad Manners,
Qualms,
The Associates,
New Order,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Adolescents,
Big Daddy Kane,
Blancmange,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fluxion,
Aloha Tigers,
Andrew Hill,
Das Ding,
EPMD,
Deepchord,
David Bowie,
New Age Steppers,
Inner City,
David Axelrod,
The Modern Lovers,
Zapp,
Chrome,
Quando Quango,
Brick,
Outsiders,
DJ Sneak,
Matthew Halsall,
Pylon,
Quadrant,
The Doors,
Pole,
The Star Department,
The Slackers,
The Real Kids,
Index,
Skriet,
Gang Gang Dance,
Hoover,
Second Layer,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.