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 Belize and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 rhodes 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 Duran Duran to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index 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 a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Animal Collective,
Rites of Spring,
Cymande,
Skaos,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Sonics,
Dark Day,
John Holt,
Quando Quango,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
L. Decosne,
Drexciya,
Pere Ubu,
Arcadia,
Eurythmics,
Heaven 17,
Iggy Pop,
Soft Cell,
Junior Murvin,
Fugazi,
World's Most,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Zero Boys,
Alton Ellis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cameo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
David Bowie,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eric Dolphy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pylon,
Livin' Joy,
Severed Heads,
Anthony Braxton,
Stockholm Monsters,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gun Club,
Depeche Mode,
Wasted Youth,
Gregory Isaacs,
Dawn Penn,
Fear,
Jimmy McGriff,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Tremeloes,
Con Funk Shun,
Spoonie Gee,
T.S.O.L.,
Spandau Ballet,
Albert Ayler,
Carl Craig,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Young Rascals,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.