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 Jordan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin 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 Josef K to the grime 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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
Scion,
Nico,
The Leaves,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
ABC,
Connie Case,
Ludus,
Sparks,
Lakeside,
The Last Poets,
Skaos,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Stiv Bators,
Soul II Soul,
Black Flag,
Half Japanese,
Livin' Joy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Chris & Cosey,
The Grass Roots,
Wings,
Technova,
Radio Birdman,
Icehouse,
The Dead C,
Janne Schatter,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Bananas,
Absolute Body Control,
Rosa Yemen,
Jimmy McGriff,
Minnie Riperton,
Neu!,
These Immortal Souls,
Interpol,
Pussy Galore,
Idris Muhammad,
The Dirtbombs,
The Happenings,
Shuggie Otis,
Khruangbin,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ronan,
Ultravox,
The Monochrome Set,
Pagans,
John Foxx,
Oneida,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Boz Scaggs,
Groovy Waters,
Aural Exciters,
Theoretical Girls,
Mark Hollis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.