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 Mexico and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Index to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Groovy Waters,
The J.B.'s,
Jeff Lynne,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Golliwogs,
ABBA,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nico,
Bobby Byrd,
Brass Construction,
Scrapy,
The Cowsills,
Flash Fearless,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Index,
Ultimate Spinach,
La Düsseldorf,
Brick,
Panda Bear,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Names,
Mandrill,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marc Almond,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Modern Lovers,
The Cure,
Sugar Minott,
Freddie Wadling,
Whodini,
Faust,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jacques Brel,
The Slits,
Guru Guru,
Yaz,
Isaac Hayes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Leaves,
Siglo XX,
Suicide,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Electric Prunes,
Patti Smith,
Little Man,
Moss Icon,
These Immortal Souls,
Spandau Ballet,
The Mojo Men,
Ken Boothe,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Invisible,
Sun Ra,
The Angels of Light,
Joyce Sims,
World's Most,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.