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 Bahamas and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Intrusion,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Human League,
Thee Headcoats,
Jawbox,
Television Personalities,
MDC,
The Knickerbockers,
The Modern Lovers,
The Doors,
Liliput,
Stiv Bators,
Ornette Coleman,
Fluxion,
Fad Gadget,
Moebius,
L. Decosne,
Agitation Free,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Thompson Twins,
Mo-Dettes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Byron Stingily,
The Standells,
Sex Pistols,
Bob Dylan,
Warsaw,
Rapeman,
The Saints,
Anakelly,
Black Sheep,
Adolescents,
Cymande,
Robert Görl,
Technova,
Carl Craig,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bobby Womack,
Traffic Nightmare,
R.M.O.,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Quantec,
Sam Rivers,
Whodini,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fat Boys,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Music Machine,
Godley & Creme,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cal Tjader,
Heaven 17,
Eve St. Jones,
The Dirtbombs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Robert Hood,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sparks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.