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 Djibouti and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar 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 X-Ray Spex to the electroclash 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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bill Wells,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Moon,
Excepter,
H. Thieme,
Harry Pussy,
Anakelly,
Deakin,
the Association,
Cybotron,
Derrick Morgan,
Joe Smooth,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Motions,
This Heat,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rakim,
Jacques Brel,
Fear,
Average White Band,
Q and Not U,
Index,
Flipper,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Stooges,
Fatback Band,
Pantaleimon,
The Busters,
Robert Görl,
The Selecter,
Mad Mike,
Arthur Verocai,
Nico,
Nation of Ulysses,
Urselle,
Glenn Branca,
Bobby Womack,
The Victims,
Wasted Youth,
E-Dancer,
Q65,
Mars,
Make Up,
Wolf Eyes,
Blancmange,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cheater Slicks,
Parry Music,
Lower 48,
T. Rex,
Accadde A,
Oblivians,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ronan,
Tropical Tobacco,
June Days,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.