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 Brunei and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Index to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
The Searchers,
Suburban Knight,
Silicon Teens,
Godley & Creme,
Blossom Toes,
Robert Hood,
Frankie Knuckles,
Clear Light,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tears for Fears,
Toni Rubio,
Monolake,
Jeru the Damaja,
Shuggie Otis,
Drexciya,
Khruangbin,
Rekid,
Oneida,
Josef K,
Rod Modell,
Al Stewart,
Faust,
Eli Mardock,
The Knickerbockers,
The Smiths,
Arab on Radar,
Drive Like Jehu,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Circle Jerks,
The Raincoats,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fear,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Von Mondo,
Wasted Youth,
Joe Smooth,
Depeche Mode,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Hot Snakes,
David Axelrod,
Mantronix,
Average White Band,
The Vogues,
Urselle,
Scion,
Mandrill,
The Star Department,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joey Negro,
Graham Central Station,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Grass Roots,
The Blues Magoos,
The Index,
Pagans,
Gregory Isaacs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Evens,
ABBA,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.