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 Turkmenistan and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Cymande,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Talk Talk,
Whodini,
The Offenders,
Magazine,
Funkadelic,
Black Flag,
Motorama,
Qualms,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Normal,
Crash Course in Science,
Lalann,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Gap Band,
Scrapy,
Franke,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
Idris Muhammad,
Buzzcocks,
New York Dolls,
Jeff Lynne,
The Five Americans,
Basic Channel,
Easy Going,
Model 500,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dark Day,
Warsaw,
Gang of Four,
Rod Modell,
Main Source,
Darondo,
Reagan Youth,
Theoretical Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
John Foxx,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bill Wells,
X-Ray Spex,
Suicide,
Ken Boothe,
Todd Terry,
D'Angelo,
Adolescents,
Goldenarms,
Connie Case,
The Mummies,
Fear,
Sister Nancy,
MC5,
The Fuzztones,
Danielle Patucci,
Severed Heads,
The Pop Group,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.