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 France and from Mexico City.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 Crispy Ambulance to the crunk 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Audionom record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
The Blackbyrds,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Roxy Music,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Althea and Donna,
Freddie Wadling,
Pere Ubu,
Nik Kershaw,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lou Reed,
Bush Tetras,
Second Layer,
The Count Five,
Joey Negro,
Pylon,
Television,
Dead Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lebanon Hanover,
The J.B.'s,
Gichy Dan,
Interpol,
Pantytec,
KRS-One,
PIL,
Gastr Del Sol,
Oneida,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Martian,
Lindisfarne,
Slave,
Yellowson,
The Human League,
Janne Schatter,
Eric Dolphy,
John Lydon,
La Düsseldorf,
Black Sheep,
The Divine Comedy,
Clear Light,
Rakim,
Vladislav Delay,
Skaos,
The Gladiators,
48th St. Collective,
Matthew Bourne,
The Names,
Dave Gahan,
Black Pus,
Nas,
Connie Case,
Tears for Fears,
The Associates,
Amazonics,
Jerry's Kids,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Cramps,
Radiopuhelimet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Todd Terry,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.