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 Albania and from New York.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 John Cale to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
the Germs,
Tomorrow,
Josef K,
T.S.O.L.,
Marine Girls,
Infiniti,
The Detroit Cobras,
Idris Muhammad,
Arcadia,
Amon Düül,
Cluster,
Bootsy Collins,
Ken Boothe,
The Velvet Underground,
Sex Pistols,
The Red Krayola,
Thee Headcoats,
Eurythmics,
Piero Umiliani,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Alarm Clocks,
New York Dolls,
Pagans,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dirtbombs,
The Tremeloes,
Toni Rubio,
The Kinks,
JFA,
Terry Callier,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Scrapy,
Babytalk,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Brass Construction,
Suicide,
The Pop Group,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fall,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Dead C,
Mantronix,
The Happenings,
The Gladiators,
Thompson Twins,
Boredoms,
Isaac Hayes,
The Toasters,
The Evens,
Brick,
Black Bananas,
Ludus,
Little Man,
Kaleidoscope,
Grauzone,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pharoah Sanders,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.