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 Tunisia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 R.M.O. to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
The Five Americans,
Porter Ricks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Grandmaster Flash,
Procol Harum,
Index,
Schoolly D,
Mark Hollis,
Fela Kuti,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Standells,
Electric Prunes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Moebius,
Outsiders,
Alton Ellis,
Joyce Sims,
Archie Shepp,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Don Cherry,
The Cramps,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
World's Most,
Maleditus Sound,
Jimmy McGriff,
Big Daddy Kane,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
U.S. Maple,
Rites of Spring,
Davy DMX,
Jeru the Damaja,
David Bowie,
Ponytail,
Deakin,
Nas,
The Star Department,
The Fire Engines,
Japan,
Yellowson,
Sugar Minott,
Fear,
Max Romeo,
Al Stewart,
Sight & Sound,
The Pop Group,
Little Man,
Stiv Bators,
Hasil Adkins,
The Electric Prunes,
Cybotron,
Albert Ayler,
Deepchord,
Loose Ends,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eve St. Jones,
The American Breed,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stetsasonic,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.