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 Turkey and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Beijing.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sound. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Blancmange,
Agent Orange,
Cameo,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jesper Dahlback,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fat Boys,
The Move,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Gladiators,
Hasil Adkins,
The Stooges,
MDC,
Theoretical Girls,
Hardrive,
Metal Thangz,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ponytail,
The Walker Brothers,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Buckinghams,
David Bowie,
Man Parrish,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Human League,
The Motions,
Crooked Eye,
John Holt,
Toni Rubio,
Eric Copeland,
The Offenders,
The Saints,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Litter,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Oblivians,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gichy Dan,
Derrick Morgan,
The Durutti Column,
The Misunderstood,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Busters,
Minny Pops,
The Victims,
Hot Snakes,
Sight & Sound,
Davy DMX,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wasted Youth,
Lightning Bolt,
Scratch Acid,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobby Sherman,
Gerry Rafferty,
Underground Resistance,
Marc Almond,
Godley & Creme,
Lower 48,
Thee Headcoats,
Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp.
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.