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 Estonia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Donald Fagen 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 Motions to the electroclash 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Harry Pussy,
The American Breed,
Black Bananas,
The Cramps,
Kayak,
Scan 7,
Trumans Water,
Letta Mbulu,
Judy Mowatt,
Sällskapet,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
New Order,
The Angels of Light,
Juan Atkins,
Carl Craig,
The Blues Magoos,
The Gladiators,
AZ,
LL Cool J,
Kurtis Blow,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Amon Düül,
The Velvet Underground,
Nas,
Mandrill,
The Trojans,
The Gories,
Kaleidoscope,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Average White Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Tom Boy,
Gong,
June Days,
Motorama,
Roxy Music,
Fugazi,
The Grass Roots,
Theoretical Girls,
Morten Harket,
Deakin,
Slick Rick,
Groovy Waters,
Spandau Ballet,
Marvin Gaye,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Urselle,
Cymande,
Electric Prunes,
Dawn Penn,
Ludus,
Piero Umiliani,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Symarip,
Lalann,
the Slits,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ultra Naté,
Reuben Wilson,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Shoche,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.