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 Singapore and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cluster to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Television,
Main Source,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fugs,
Mad Mike,
Funkadelic,
The Fuzztones,
Harry Pussy,
Roger Hodgson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Colin Newman,
Au Pairs,
Tres Demented,
Kenny Larkin,
The Blackbyrds,
Ossler,
The Walker Brothers,
Wally Richardson,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
This Heat,
The Remains,
David Bowie,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nico,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Alphaville,
Faust,
The Happenings,
Quantec,
Bad Manners,
Absolute Body Control,
Cecil Taylor,
Neu!,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Morten Harket,
Subhumans,
Frankie Knuckles,
Severed Heads,
Donny Hathaway,
Soft Cell,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Barbara Tucker,
The Mummies,
U.S. Maple,
Chrome,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Eric Copeland,
Model 500,
The Smiths,
Piero Umiliani,
ABBA,
Bobby Byrd,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Zero Boys,
The United States of America,
Skriet,
Oblivians,
Swell Maps,
Derrick Morgan,
Bluetip,
the Association,
Scion,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.