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 Vietnam and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Outsiders to the disco 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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Matthew Bourne,
Angry Samoans,
Anakelly,
Crash Course in Science,
Audionom,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Inner City,
Gabor Szabo,
Monolake,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Maurizio,
The Gladiators,
Silicon Teens,
Joe Smooth,
The Flesh Eaters,
T. Rex,
EPMD,
Hashim,
Grauzone,
X-Ray Spex,
This Heat,
Quando Quango,
Basic Channel,
Soft Cell,
the Human League,
China Crisis,
Marc Almond,
The Slackers,
Wally Richardson,
Sound Behaviour,
Bauhaus,
Sister Nancy,
Liliput,
Rekid,
The Birthday Party,
Chrome,
Organ,
The Modern Lovers,
Tears for Fears,
James White and The Blacks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Techniques,
Desert Stars,
Bobbi Humphrey,
David McCallum,
Los Fastidios,
Unwound,
Stereo Dub,
Idris Muhammad,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Cameo,
Spoonie Gee,
New Order,
Bootsy Collins,
Jacob Miller,
Loose Ends,
Radiohead,
DJ Sneak,
The Leaves,
Smog,
Eli Mardock,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.