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 Monaco and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Toronto.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dirtbombs to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Juan Atkins,
The Durutti Column,
Pantaleimon,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mantronix,
Von Mondo,
The Victims,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The American Breed,
Gang Green,
The Seeds,
Scientists,
Shuggie Otis,
Soft Machine,
Jeru the Damaja,
EPMD,
Barbara Tucker,
Althea and Donna,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Grass Roots,
Stiv Bators,
a-ha,
Scrapy,
Basic Channel,
June of 44,
Swans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tears for Fears,
Robert Görl,
Wings,
Slave,
Sister Nancy,
Man Parrish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Red Krayola,
Robert Hood,
K-Klass,
Crime,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yazoo,
Ossler,
Second Layer,
Moby Grape,
Bob Dylan,
A Certain Ratio,
The Associates,
Sonic Youth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Camouflage,
In Retrospect,
Alison Limerick,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Human League,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Adolescents,
the Soft Cell,
Ituana,
Glambeats Corp.,
Vladislav Delay,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.