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 East Timor and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Byron Stingily to the rap 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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scrapy,
Skarface,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Albert Ayler,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Robert Görl,
Byron Stingily,
Niagra,
Bill Near,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Babytalk,
The Count Five,
Easy Going,
Mo-Dettes,
Stetsasonic,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cybotron,
Kurtis Blow,
Graham Central Station,
Marc Almond,
Hot Snakes,
Bauhaus,
Sandy B,
Lucky Dragons,
Massinfluence,
Average White Band,
John Holt,
a-ha,
Make Up,
Little Man,
Hasil Adkins,
Y Pants,
Chrome,
Joe Smooth,
Urselle,
The Five Americans,
Quadrant,
Alison Limerick,
June Days,
Dave Gahan,
Ossler,
Rufus Thomas,
Tommy Roe,
Eurythmics,
Morten Harket,
Maleditus Sound,
CMW,
Max Romeo,
The Smoke,
Robert Wyatt,
Aloha Tigers,
Iggy Pop,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bizarre Inc.,
ABBA,
Sister Nancy,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.