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 Cameroon and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 Marc Almond to the techno 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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
The Kinks,
The Blues Magoos,
Blancmange,
the Swans,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Pop Group,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Flash Fearless,
The Selecter,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Blackbyrds,
The Happenings,
Clear Light,
Robert Görl,
Cluster,
Rekid,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Prince Buster,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Roy Ayers,
LL Cool J,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Normal,
Altered Images,
Jesper Dahlback,
Half Japanese,
Flipper,
Gabor Szabo,
Pere Ubu,
Marmalade,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Alice Coltrane,
Severed Heads,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gladiators,
Darondo,
the Soft Cell,
E-Dancer,
Bang On A Can,
Idris Muhammad,
Swell Maps,
Trumans Water,
Audionom,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lakeside,
Lower 48,
Tears for Fears,
June of 44,
Boz Scaggs,
The Wake,
Faust,
The New Christs,
Sun City Girls,
The Misunderstood,
Unrelated Segments,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scan 7,
The Vogues,
Ornette Coleman,
Surgeon,
Stereo Dub,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.