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 Italy and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Dawn Penn to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sparks,
Marc Almond,
The Fire Engines,
The American Breed,
Robert Wyatt,
Dave Gahan,
Crash Course in Science,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joy Division,
The Young Rascals,
LL Cool J,
The Smoke,
The Move,
The Fugs,
New York Dolls,
The Monks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Nirvana,
U.S. Maple,
R.M.O.,
Amon Düül II,
The Count Five,
Donald Byrd,
Prince Buster,
Roxy Music,
Monolake,
Suburban Knight,
Quadrant,
Hardrive,
Suicide,
Bush Tetras,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pierre Henry,
Rufus Thomas,
Jeff Mills,
The Toasters,
The Golliwogs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Easy Going,
Blake Baxter,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Minor Threat,
Nico,
Cal Tjader,
Harmonia,
Black Pus,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gong,
Franke,
Monks,
Bang On A Can,
DNA,
Al Stewart,
The Human League,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Blossom Toes,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.