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 Tunisia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the crunk 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gories,
Neu!,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Trojans,
Max Romeo,
Soulsonic Force,
Girls At Our Best!,
E-Dancer,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Names,
Outsiders,
Mandrill,
Derrick Morgan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Buzzcocks,
DJ Style,
Mary Jane Girls,
Joyce Sims,
The Music Machine,
Porter Ricks,
Gang Green,
the Sonics,
Janne Schatter,
X-Ray Spex,
Hot Snakes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Technova,
Nils Olav,
Soft Cell,
Lou Reed,
Crime,
Brass Construction,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Stiv Bators,
Cal Tjader,
Tom Boy,
The Monks,
The United States of America,
Unrelated Segments,
Eli Mardock,
Talk Talk,
Adolescents,
Marine Girls,
David Axelrod,
Judy Mowatt,
Barbara Tucker,
Scion,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Martian,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Alice Coltrane,
Swans,
Circle Jerks,
Thee Headcoats,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Byrd,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Electric Prunes,
Minor Threat,
Leonard Cohen,
the Association,
Prince Buster,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.