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 Nicaragua and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro 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 Barclay James Harvest to the dance 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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Procol Harum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Siglo XX,
Vladislav Delay,
The Music Machine,
Anthony Braxton,
Oneida,
Brand Nubian,
Deadbeat,
Con Funk Shun,
Eden Ahbez,
The American Breed,
The Monks,
Index,
OOIOO,
Simply Red,
John Cale,
Blossom Toes,
Echospace,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Beau Brummels,
Bob Dylan,
The Vogues,
Gang Gang Dance,
Black Pus,
Bauhaus,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Germs,
the Association,
Make Up,
Y Pants,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Move,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Zeros,
Boz Scaggs,
Masters at Work,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Seeds,
Isaac Hayes,
Marvin Gaye,
Yellowson,
Matthew Halsall,
Slick Rick,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fluxion,
Marcia Griffiths,
Interpol,
Monks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Litter,
Barrington Levy,
Davy DMX,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gang of Four,
The Kinks,
Soul II Soul,
Section 25,
Drexciya,
Todd Terry,
Donald Byrd,
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.