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 Thailand and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Soft Cell to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Wasted Youth,
The Durutti Column,
Camberwell Now,
Accadde A,
The Standells,
The Moody Blues,
the Association,
Q65,
Pulsallama,
Eurythmics,
Zero Boys,
The Cowsills,
Pylon,
The Raincoats,
Gregory Isaacs,
T.S.O.L.,
Charles Mingus,
Roxy Music,
Amazonics,
Quantec,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Flag,
Fugazi,
Fluxion,
Toni Rubio,
Alice Coltrane,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Techniques,
Gong,
Blancmange,
Roxette,
Hasil Adkins,
Robert Görl,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Severed Heads,
Aural Exciters,
Gichy Dan,
F. McDonald,
Y Pants,
Alton Ellis,
Wolf Eyes,
ABBA,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marc Almond,
Joyce Sims,
L. Decosne,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lalann,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Henry Cow,
Ossler,
Bill Wells,
Susan Cadogan,
Laurel Aitken,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harry Pussy,
Porter Ricks,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.