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 Singapore and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pantytec to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Radiopuhelimet,
Subhumans,
Bobby Byrd,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Frankie Knuckles,
Avey Tare,
Rotary Connection,
Smog,
Fugazi,
Mandrill,
Livin' Joy,
Kerri Chandler,
Eve St. Jones,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Idris Muhammad,
Suburban Knight,
Skaos,
The Victims,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Godley & Creme,
Bill Near,
Icehouse,
Archie Shepp,
Sight & Sound,
Hot Snakes,
Bill Wells,
Fat Boys,
The Real Kids,
Schoolly D,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Connie Case,
Bob Dylan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
World's Most,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dead Boys,
The Red Krayola,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Al Stewart,
Vainqueur,
B.T. Express,
Soft Machine,
Cybotron,
Malaria!,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Names,
Intrusion,
Jerry's Kids,
Hardrive,
John Cale,
Main Source,
Sällskapet,
Jesper Dahlback,
Theoretical Girls,
Graham Central Station,
The Happenings,
Erasure,
Hoover,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.