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 Equatorial Guinea and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen 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 spring reverb 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 The Invisible to the funk 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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Hoover,
Symarip,
Popol Vuh,
The Gun Club,
The Angels of Light,
Lyres,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Depeche Mode,
Boredoms,
Ice-T,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Last Poets,
James Chance & The Contortions,
David McCallum,
Tommy Roe,
The Black Dice,
Dawn Penn,
Lindisfarne,
Dead Boys,
Zero Boys,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marine Girls,
The Sonics,
Severed Heads,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Sisters of Mercy,
D'Angelo,
Alphaville,
Outsiders,
The Doors,
Bronski Beat,
The Offenders,
Amazonics,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
U.S. Maple,
Clear Light,
Con Funk Shun,
LL Cool J,
Unrelated Segments,
The Stooges,
Eden Ahbez,
Hardrive,
Fat Boys,
La Düsseldorf,
Suicide,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ralphi Rosario,
DJ Style,
Deadbeat,
Second Layer,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Swans,
Kerri Chandler,
Steve Hackett,
David Bowie,
Ornette Coleman,
Eddi Front,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.