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 Solomon Islands and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron 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 Lakeside to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
R.M.O.,
Cheater Slicks,
Interpol,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Barracudas,
Symarip,
Matthew Halsall,
The Doors,
Mandrill,
Trumans Water,
the Germs,
Maleditus Sound,
Grauzone,
Absolute Body Control,
Suicide,
Das Ding,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Index,
Sister Nancy,
Eric Dolphy,
Dark Day,
Rufus Thomas,
Unwound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Harry Pussy,
Clear Light,
ABBA,
Brand Nubian,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Aural Exciters,
The Saints,
The Pop Group,
Piero Umiliani,
The Wake,
The Music Machine,
Althea and Donna,
Half Japanese,
Camberwell Now,
Zero Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
Banda Bassotti,
Nils Olav,
Deadbeat,
Howard Jones,
Minutemen,
Schoolly D,
Warsaw,
Blake Baxter,
The Dead C,
Black Moon,
Gerry Rafferty,
Technova,
Slick Rick,
Accadde A,
Aloha Tigers,
X-Ray Spex,
Altered Images,
Harmonia,
Jandek,
Byron Stingily,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.