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 Mauritania and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
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 arpeggiator 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 Big Daddy Kane to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
Rites of Spring,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marc Almond,
Gong,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wolf Eyes,
La Düsseldorf,
The Move,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Los Fastidios,
Sight & Sound,
Cameo,
The Fire Engines,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
48th St. Collective,
Fela Kuti,
Minnie Riperton,
Todd Rundgren,
Y Pants,
Country Joe & The Fish,
James Chance & The Contortions,
PIL,
New York Dolls,
Second Layer,
Grey Daturas,
Hoover,
Siglo XX,
Mission of Burma,
Patti Smith,
The Beau Brummels,
Nirvana,
Dead Boys,
Newcleus,
The Fortunes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Holt,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Kinks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tres Demented,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Yellowson,
Scan 7,
Jandek,
Black Bananas,
the Bar-Kays,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Althea and Donna,
The Dirtbombs,
JFA,
The Offenders,
Freddie Wadling,
John Foxx,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wasted Youth,
Wire,
Derrick Morgan,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.