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 Australia and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lagos.
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 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 Lou Reed 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 Nation of Ulysses 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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Stereo Dub,
Faust,
Dual Sessions,
Whodini,
Robert Wyatt,
Essential Logic,
Lightning Bolt,
Porter Ricks,
Camouflage,
Angry Samoans,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pantytec,
Arcadia,
Tropical Tobacco,
Derrick May,
Charles Mingus,
The Evens,
The Trojans,
ABBA,
Cheater Slicks,
Technova,
Gong,
Bobby Sherman,
Vainqueur,
Blake Baxter,
Accadde A,
Severed Heads,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lindisfarne,
Thee Headcoats,
Loose Ends,
Metal Thangz,
Tommy Roe,
X-102,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rekid,
Mantronix,
Q65,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jacob Miller,
Crispian St. Peters,
Model 500,
Bad Manners,
The Cowsills,
Interpol,
The Tremeloes,
Bluetip,
Los Fastidios,
The Motions,
New York Dolls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jerry's Kids,
Mad Mike,
John Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
Marvin Gaye,
Cluster,
The Gap Band,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.