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 Australia and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Delhi.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Misunderstood to the electroclash 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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Offenders,
Laurel Aitken,
John Foxx,
Deadbeat,
Dave Gahan,
Fela Kuti,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Alison Limerick,
Skaos,
Y Pants,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Joyce Sims,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Funkadelic,
Hot Snakes,
Man Parrish,
Delta 5,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bronski Beat,
Minor Threat,
Marcia Griffiths,
Terry Callier,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Patti Smith,
Neil Young,
Saccharine Trust,
Duran Duran,
Can,
Monks,
DJ Sneak,
Nation of Ulysses,
Surgeon,
Negative Approach,
Kerri Chandler,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rites of Spring,
Traffic Nightmare,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jacob Miller,
Funky Four + One,
Visage,
Slick Rick,
Skarface,
The Leaves,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Scrapy,
Technova,
Wings,
Blake Baxter,
Unrelated Segments,
Con Funk Shun,
Grauzone,
Barry Ungar,
Alphaville,
Al Stewart,
The J.B.'s,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.