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 Vietnam and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin 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 Tres Demented to the grunge 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick Morgan,
Whodini,
Oblivians,
June Days,
The Dave Clark Five,
Siglo XX,
Lalann,
Don Cherry,
Second Layer,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Zapp,
Dave Gahan,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Depeche Mode,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Offenders,
Urselle,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Mummies,
Amazonics,
Lucky Dragons,
Sonny Sharrock,
K-Klass,
The Moleskins,
Neil Young,
Jawbox,
The Sound,
The Zeros,
Dark Day,
Yazoo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Delon & Dalcan,
David Axelrod,
Marcia Griffiths,
Blossom Toes,
The Cramps,
Magazine,
Loose Ends,
Fatback Band,
Crash Course in Science,
Connie Case,
Pylon,
Patti Smith,
Chrome,
Soul Sonic Force,
ABC,
Graham Central Station,
Swans,
The Knickerbockers,
Joe Smooth,
X-102,
Minnie Riperton,
Byron Stingily,
Soulsonic Force,
Sonic Youth,
The Dirtbombs,
Icehouse,
Reagan Youth,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sound Behaviour,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.