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 Cape Verde and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Donald Fagen 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the dance 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
James White and The Blacks,
The Modern Lovers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marine Girls,
Liliput,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Joy Division,
The Selecter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Germs,
Electric Prunes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Qualms,
the Human League,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nick Fraelich,
Lakeside,
The Divine Comedy,
Inner City,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
JFA,
Rosa Yemen,
Maleditus Sound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scrapy,
the Slits,
Wally Richardson,
Ronnie Foster,
Arcadia,
Drive Like Jehu,
Y Pants,
Robert Wyatt,
Bobby Sherman,
Guru Guru,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gong,
Glenn Branca,
The Standells,
Eddi Front,
Niagra,
Junior Murvin,
The Dirtbombs,
Boogie Down Productions,
Steve Hackett,
Blancmange,
Desert Stars,
Marc Almond,
The Associates,
Barrington Levy,
Minnie Riperton,
The Skatalites,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Shadows of Knight,
Black Bananas,
Al Stewart,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Seeds,
Mark Hollis,
Darondo,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.