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 Suriname and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 sitar 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 The Fall to the grunge 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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Moebius tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Marc Almond,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rites of Spring,
Cheater Slicks,
The Happenings,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Can,
Intrusion,
The Star Department,
The Blackbyrds,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Flesh Eaters,
Section 25,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
Soft Cell,
Animal Collective,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Yaz,
Thee Headcoats,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Victims,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tommy Roe,
Juan Atkins,
Fugazi,
Underground Resistance,
La Düsseldorf,
Ken Boothe,
Ronnie Foster,
Nirvana,
cv313,
The Last Poets,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Todd Rundgren,
The Vogues,
Cybotron,
H. Thieme,
Make Up,
New Age Steppers,
Bang On A Can,
Nik Kershaw,
Fluxion,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rufus Thomas,
Desert Stars,
The Toasters,
The Names,
John Lydon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eric Dolphy,
The Monochrome Set,
Carl Craig,
The Gories,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.