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 Mauritania and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Sao Paulo.
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 harpsichord 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 Absolute Body Control to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Sound Behaviour,
Negative Approach,
Interpol,
The Walker Brothers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ultra Naté,
Tears for Fears,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sarah Menescal,
The Busters,
Nirvana,
The Wake,
Mantronix,
The Blackbyrds,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fugs,
Roger Hodgson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
LL Cool J,
Slave,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Litter,
Camberwell Now,
Television Personalities,
The Shadows of Knight,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roxette,
Michelle Simonal,
the Bar-Kays,
Q65,
Stiv Bators,
8 Eyed Spy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Al Stewart,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Davy DMX,
Mars,
The Index,
Marvin Gaye,
Sparks,
Tom Boy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dawn Penn,
The Moody Blues,
Porter Ricks,
Boredoms,
Dave Gahan,
Yaz,
Ralphi Rosario,
Alphaville,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Normal,
The Tremeloes,
Iggy Pop,
Soulsonic Force,
Mission of Burma,
The J.B.'s,
Graham Central Station,
Rapeman,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.