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 Mauritius and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cybotron to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
Junior Murvin,
The American Breed,
Bill Near,
Severed Heads,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Japan,
Clear Light,
Flamin' Groovies,
Blossom Toes,
Brand Nubian,
Avey Tare,
Jeff Lynne,
Pagans,
Youth Brigade,
The Birthday Party,
Mary Jane Girls,
Au Pairs,
Electric Prunes,
The Raincoats,
Masters at Work,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Roxette,
Anakelly,
Royal Trux,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bluetip,
Desert Stars,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Iggy Pop,
Cymande,
Alphaville,
Mark Hollis,
Los Fastidios,
Vladislav Delay,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lee Hazlewood,
Swell Maps,
Sparks,
Prince Buster,
Rotary Connection,
Freddie Wadling,
The Residents,
Johnny Clarke,
The Searchers,
Bang On A Can,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
DNA,
Mantronix,
The Move,
The Standells,
Lou Christie,
The Slits,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bad Manners,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
DJ Sneak,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Mummies,
The Beau Brummels,
Sixth Finger,
Ohio Players,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.