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 Jordan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Junior Murvin to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Delta 5,
The Stooges,
Reagan Youth,
Cal Tjader,
Mo-Dettes,
The Divine Comedy,
Joyce Sims,
Brothers Johnson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Last Poets,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ituana,
Schoolly D,
Von Mondo,
Ohio Players,
Stiv Bators,
Kenny Larkin,
Joensuu 1685,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Minnie Riperton,
Rod Modell,
Ronnie Foster,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pagans,
The American Breed,
Black Bananas,
Half Japanese,
Yaz,
Pole,
The Kinks,
Sight & Sound,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Maurizio,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wasted Youth,
Circle Jerks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fluxion,
June of 44,
The Smoke,
The Invisible,
Boredoms,
Eurythmics,
Scott Walker,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Quando Quango,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eddi Front,
The Searchers,
Fugazi,
Nik Kershaw,
Radiopuhelimet,
Alton Ellis,
The Beau Brummels,
The Wake,
Bill Near,
Second Layer,
Camouflage,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.