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 Venezuela and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Angry Samoans,
Buzzcocks,
Skriet,
Alison Limerick,
Gong,
Qualms,
Jacob Miller,
The Offenders,
FM Einheit,
The Neon Judgement,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Public Image Ltd.,
Zero Boys,
MC5,
F. McDonald,
Fat Boys,
Ituana,
Skaos,
Adolescents,
Porter Ricks,
Soft Cell,
Average White Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jerry's Kids,
The Grass Roots,
La Düsseldorf,
Lightning Bolt,
Scan 7,
Freddie Wadling,
Brick,
Avey Tare,
Thompson Twins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Peter and Kerry,
The Gun Club,
Interpol,
DJ Style,
The Zeros,
B.T. Express,
Guru Guru,
Amon Düül,
The Dead C,
Spandau Ballet,
the Swans,
Kenny Larkin,
Byron Stingily,
Ronnie Foster,
Kaleidoscope,
The Pretty Things,
David McCallum,
Colin Newman,
Nick Fraelich,
The Smiths,
The Electric Prunes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sex Pistols,
Sarah Menescal,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.