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 Poland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Interpol to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lower 48,
The Durutti Column,
Neu!,
Depeche Mode,
Chrome,
Livin' Joy,
John Lydon,
Delon & Dalcan,
10cc,
Barrington Levy,
Country Teasers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Hardrive,
Deadbeat,
Terry Callier,
Minnie Riperton,
Danielle Patucci,
Amazonics,
Hasil Adkins,
The Monochrome Set,
Intrusion,
Pylon,
a-ha,
Monks,
Oblivians,
Rotary Connection,
Black Pus,
Arab on Radar,
Faust,
Brothers Johnson,
Judy Mowatt,
These Immortal Souls,
Vladislav Delay,
Morten Harket,
Sound Behaviour,
The Buckinghams,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rekid,
Scratch Acid,
ABC,
Mad Mike,
Swans,
Ponytail,
Fad Gadget,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joyce Sims,
Suburban Knight,
Funkadelic,
Agitation Free,
Pantytec,
Scott Walker,
Quando Quango,
The Happenings,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Music Machine,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Zeros,
Radio Birdman,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.