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 Ireland and from Tokyo.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Womack to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alphaville 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?
Ponytail,
La Düsseldorf,
the Bar-Kays,
Mad Mike,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
These Immortal Souls,
Inner City,
Glambeats Corp.,
Little Man,
Guru Guru,
Robert Hood,
Iggy Pop,
Delta 5,
Alice Coltrane,
Surgeon,
Minor Threat,
Schoolly D,
Lyres,
The Red Krayola,
Sun City Girls,
the Sonics,
The Gap Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Television,
Cheater Slicks,
The Happenings,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ice-T,
Fatback Band,
Motorama,
Bizarre Inc.,
CMW,
Scion,
Derrick May,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobby Byrd,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Clear Light,
Scientists,
New York Dolls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
New Order,
The Count Five,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Amon Düül,
Ralphi Rosario,
Todd Rundgren,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sixth Finger,
John Holt,
Basic Channel,
Monks,
Black Moon,
Faraquet,
Deakin,
The Standells,
Unwound,
Ludus,
Slick Rick,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.