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 Burundi and from London.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Hoover to the jazz 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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Symarip,
Soulsonic Force,
Agent Orange,
Yaz,
Stereo Dub,
Monks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Brick,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Angels of Light,
Aural Exciters,
K-Klass,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lindisfarne,
Henry Cow,
the Slits,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Junior Murvin,
Panda Bear,
Porter Ricks,
the Bar-Kays,
The Wake,
Man Parrish,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ultra Naté,
Niagra,
Ponytail,
The Sound,
Zapp,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Doors,
Nils Olav,
The American Breed,
Bill Wells,
Pagans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Supertramp,
Television,
The Vogues,
Blossom Toes,
Sexual Harrassment,
DJ Sneak,
Harry Pussy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pierre Henry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Byrd,
Can,
June of 44,
Schoolly D,
Fluxion,
Sun Ra,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Joyce Sims,
Erasure,
Public Enemy,
The Five Americans,
The Fall,
Robert Hood,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.