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 Angola and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Tommy Roe,
Sarah Menescal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Boredoms,
The Kinks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Man Parrish,
Brothers Johnson,
Barclay James Harvest,
ABBA,
Quantec,
Patti Smith,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mandrill,
Junior Murvin,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Flag,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bad Manners,
Marmalade,
The New Christs,
The Residents,
Kurtis Blow,
Tears for Fears,
The Real Kids,
The Doors,
Guru Guru,
Thee Headcoats,
Malaria!,
June Days,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Procol Harum,
Television,
Suicide,
Wings,
Derrick May,
Gil Scott Heron,
Marvin Gaye,
Roy Ayers,
The Motions,
Peter & Gordon,
Mantronix,
Sight & Sound,
Ronan,
Glenn Branca,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soft Machine,
Robert Görl,
Ice-T,
Altered Images,
Grey Daturas,
Bill Near,
Au Pairs,
Grauzone,
Ossler,
The Beau Brummels,
Don Cherry,
Alphaville,
Supertramp,
Saccharine Trust,
Desert Stars,
Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal.
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.