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 Papua New Guinea and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the crunk 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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Todd Terry,
The Gun Club,
Tim Buckley,
Patti Smith,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ludus,
Max Romeo,
Lou Christie,
Tom Boy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Audionom,
Toni Rubio,
The Alarm Clocks,
Easy Going,
Hasil Adkins,
Lee Hazlewood,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Blancmange,
Juan Atkins,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bill Near,
Urselle,
Joensuu 1685,
Subhumans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Au Pairs,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eric Copeland,
Negative Approach,
the Sonics,
Dead Boys,
Malaria!,
Jawbox,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Roxette,
Interpol,
Altered Images,
Con Funk Shun,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Mighty Diamonds,
This Heat,
R.M.O.,
The Victims,
Barclay James Harvest,
Darondo,
Deadbeat,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Womack,
Whodini,
Kas Product,
Aloha Tigers,
The Detroit Cobras,
B.T. Express,
The Slits,
Mantronix,
Das Ding,
Monks,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.