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 India and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Fat Boys to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Motorama,
Fat Boys,
The Invisible,
Maleditus Sound,
The Shadows of Knight,
Groovy Waters,
R.M.O.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Tremeloes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Althea and Donna,
Icehouse,
Jeff Mills,
Tubeway Army,
Minny Pops,
Nas,
Soft Cell,
ABC,
Aaron Thompson,
Spandau Ballet,
Dead Boys,
The Velvet Underground,
Siglo XX,
Black Bananas,
Jerry's Kids,
Peter and Kerry,
The Electric Prunes,
Bootsy Collins,
ABBA,
Absolute Body Control,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Star Department,
10cc,
Don Cherry,
Slick Rick,
Pere Ubu,
Ohio Players,
Television Personalities,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
B.T. Express,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sonny Sharrock,
Theoretical Girls,
Skarface,
Terry Callier,
Wasted Youth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scratch Acid,
Radio Birdman,
Oneida,
Roxy Music,
Man Parrish,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Country Teasers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Toni Rubio,
Bluetip,
CMW,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Grauzone,
World's Most,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.