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 Equatorial Guinea and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Spokane.
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 harpsichord 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 8 Eyed Spy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
The Pretty Things,
Surgeon,
Thee Headcoats,
Accadde A,
Lee Hazlewood,
Organ,
Wolf Eyes,
Marvin Gaye,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Toasters,
Oneida,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gichy Dan,
Pole,
The Neon Judgement,
D'Angelo,
The Slits,
Minutemen,
Quando Quango,
U.S. Maple,
Fluxion,
Stockholm Monsters,
Altered Images,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Glenn Branca,
Byron Stingily,
Boredoms,
Alton Ellis,
Grauzone,
The Angels of Light,
Albert Ayler,
PIL,
EPMD,
Clear Light,
Man Parrish,
Isaac Hayes,
Soft Cell,
Flash Fearless,
Sugar Minott,
Sex Pistols,
The Saints,
Radiohead,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Circle Jerks,
Cybotron,
Roxette,
The Golliwogs,
Can,
Pantytec,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tubeway Army,
Shoche,
Jerry's Kids,
Alphaville,
Gang of Four,
Sparks,
Bill Near,
Henry Cow,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.