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 Malta and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Thompson Twins to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mojo Men record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Soft Machine,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kayak,
Chrome,
Bronski Beat,
Barrington Levy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Deadbeat,
Boogie Down Productions,
Amon Düül,
The Moody Blues,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ultravox,
Trumans Water,
Japan,
Moebius,
Ludus,
Sun Ra,
Don Cherry,
Urselle,
Sparks,
Yusef Lateef,
John Coltrane,
the Swans,
The Grass Roots,
Guru Guru,
The Associates,
Sex Pistols,
Massinfluence,
D'Angelo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ronan,
Gang Gang Dance,
Camouflage,
Piero Umiliani,
John Cale,
The Gun Club,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Radiopuhelimet,
ABC,
Rhythm & Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dead Boys,
The Leaves,
Agent Orange,
The Blackbyrds,
Bob Dylan,
Gang of Four,
The Red Krayola,
Soul Sonic Force,
Althea and Donna,
Howard Jones,
Archie Shepp,
The Techniques,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Skriet,
ABBA,
Circle Jerks,
Arcadia,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.