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 Czech Republic and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the funk 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 OOIOO. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Absolute Body Control,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Erasure,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cecil Taylor,
Sister Nancy,
Morten Harket,
Deadbeat,
Organ,
Gabor Szabo,
Nico,
the Sonics,
Fad Gadget,
A Certain Ratio,
Talk Talk,
Sun City Girls,
Trumans Water,
KRS-One,
Ultravox,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rosa Yemen,
Scratch Acid,
Soul II Soul,
Steve Hackett,
The Standells,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jeff Lynne,
The Detroit Cobras,
48th St. Collective,
Arab on Radar,
Basic Channel,
The Happenings,
Fluxion,
The Golliwogs,
The Barracudas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cybotron,
Nation of Ulysses,
Drexciya,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantytec,
Warren Ellis,
Thee Headcoats,
Crooked Eye,
Roxette,
Nils Olav,
Lalann,
Tommy Roe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rites of Spring,
Livin' Joy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Skriet,
Masters at Work,
Parry Music,
The Doors,
Maurizio,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.