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 Guyana and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Divine Comedy,
Neu!,
The Five Americans,
The Angels of Light,
ABBA,
The Velvet Underground,
The Offenders,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mission of Burma,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lebanon Hanover,
a-ha,
Scratch Acid,
John Coltrane,
Circle Jerks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
UT,
Dave Gahan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scott Walker,
The Gun Club,
Sixth Finger,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jeff Lynne,
Soul II Soul,
Toni Rubio,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sonny Sharrock,
Joe Finger,
Aswad,
The Red Krayola,
Jesper Dahlback,
Intrusion,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tropical Tobacco,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fluxion,
Aural Exciters,
Marvin Gaye,
The Associates,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Iggy Pop,
The Moleskins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nils Olav,
Swans,
Livin' Joy,
The Gladiators,
The Doors,
Spandau Ballet,
Maurizio,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Liliput,
Joe Smooth,
Smog,
Isaac Hayes,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.