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 Seychelles and from New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Names to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q65 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
Camouflage,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Sound,
Thompson Twins,
Minor Threat,
the Normal,
The Index,
The Slackers,
T. Rex,
John Foxx,
Tears for Fears,
The Moody Blues,
The Divine Comedy,
Robert Wyatt,
Sound Behaviour,
Alton Ellis,
Sandy B,
Model 500,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eurythmics,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ultra Naté,
The Durutti Column,
David Bowie,
Gil Scott Heron,
John Cale,
Nick Fraelich,
Electric Prunes,
Oneida,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Al Stewart,
The Wake,
Pantytec,
Davy DMX,
Rod Modell,
Suburban Knight,
Howard Jones,
Minnie Riperton,
Bill Wells,
John Lydon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Subhumans,
Audionom,
Fugazi,
Sun City Girls,
Marc Almond,
Little Man,
Visage,
Barrington Levy,
Stiv Bators,
the Fania All-Stars,
Hoover,
Tomorrow,
Skarface,
Faraquet,
Joyce Sims,
Lindisfarne,
John Holt,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Beau Brummels,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.