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 Bolivia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Tears for Fears to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kenny Larkin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Martian,
Fat Boys,
ABC,
Eric B and Rakim,
Symarip,
Sixth Finger,
Sarah Menescal,
Urselle,
Chrome,
Goldenarms,
Lungfish,
Desert Stars,
The Moody Blues,
The Flesh Eaters,
ABBA,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bronski Beat,
Vladislav Delay,
Gregory Isaacs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Monochrome Set,
Neu!,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Fortunes,
Flipper,
Barrington Levy,
CMW,
Chris & Cosey,
Japan,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kayak,
Eden Ahbez,
Liliput,
Roxette,
Eurythmics,
Essential Logic,
Surgeon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
James White and The Blacks,
The Grass Roots,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ornette Coleman,
Yellowson,
The Dirtbombs,
Harmonia,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roger Hodgson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Icehouse,
David McCallum,
The Kinks,
The Searchers,
The Invisible,
Mission of Burma,
The Vogues,
F. McDonald,
the Human League,
Sugar Minott,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.