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 Uruguay and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar 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 Dead Boys to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Maleditus Sound,
Subhumans,
Jeff Mills,
Buzzcocks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gang of Four,
Terrestrial Tones,
Janne Schatter,
Pierre Henry,
Camberwell Now,
Zapp,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
AZ,
New York Dolls,
Harry Pussy,
The Music Machine,
Deakin,
June Days,
Whodini,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Toni Rubio,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Misunderstood,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Cure,
Section 25,
Ultra Naté,
Traffic Nightmare,
Agent Orange,
The Smiths,
ABBA,
Anakelly,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Leonard Cohen,
Y Pants,
Pet Shop Boys,
Suburban Knight,
The Invisible,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bobby Byrd,
Sarah Menescal,
Lungfish,
The J.B.'s,
Country Joe & The Fish,
New Age Steppers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Infiniti,
Simply Red,
Neil Young,
The Cowsills,
Smog,
Mandrill,
Spandau Ballet,
Wings,
Tears for Fears,
Average White Band,
Ultravox,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.