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 Finland and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Winnipeg.
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 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 Michael McDonald 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 The Flesh Eaters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bronski Beat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
The Remains,
Alison Limerick,
Andrew Hill,
The Slackers,
The Gun Club,
Tim Buckley,
Black Flag,
Radiohead,
Gichy Dan,
Leonard Cohen,
Fugazi,
The Invisible,
Sexual Harrassment,
T. Rex,
James White and The Blacks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pantytec,
Brick,
Roy Ayers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sister Nancy,
Piero Umiliani,
Schoolly D,
Dark Day,
Crime,
June Days,
Sandy B,
Bang On A Can,
Barry Ungar,
Livin' Joy,
Idris Muhammad,
Janne Schatter,
Eddi Front,
Von Mondo,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Pylon,
Hasil Adkins,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soul II Soul,
Subhumans,
Severed Heads,
Grey Daturas,
the Bar-Kays,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rufus Thomas,
Drive Like Jehu,
Spandau Ballet,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pet Shop Boys,
Glambeats Corp.,
World's Most,
Darondo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Hardrive,
The Associates,
The Cure,
The Stooges,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.