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 Grenada and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 Inner City to the crunk 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 10cc record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Lindisfarne,
Porter Ricks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Model 500,
Grandmaster Flash,
Deadbeat,
Pantytec,
Parry Music,
Circle Jerks,
The Monks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Blake Baxter,
Con Funk Shun,
Slave,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Smoke,
Scion,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kerri Chandler,
Eric Copeland,
The Dead C,
Funkadelic,
DNA,
The Cramps,
Blancmange,
New Order,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tears for Fears,
Henry Cow,
Todd Rundgren,
Mo-Dettes,
Cluster,
Soulsonic Force,
Bill Wells,
Ken Boothe,
Glenn Branca,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Silicon Teens,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Soft Cell,
The Barracudas,
Skriet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Reuben Wilson,
Malaria!,
Altered Images,
Flipper,
Yellowson,
The Seeds,
Fluxion,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Icehouse,
Cameo,
Tomorrow,
Slick Rick,
K-Klass,
The Misunderstood,
Marcia Griffiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marine Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.