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 Kuwait and from Lyon.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Neil Young to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron 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?
The Index,
Lyres,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
48th St. Collective,
The Cure,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Gladiators,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobby Womack,
Camberwell Now,
The Count Five,
Altered Images,
Scratch Acid,
The Star Department,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nick Fraelich,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Whodini,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Maurizio,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Sherman,
Gichy Dan,
Wasted Youth,
Blossom Toes,
Ken Boothe,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marvin Gaye,
X-102,
Glenn Branca,
The Red Krayola,
Grauzone,
The Last Poets,
Sister Nancy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Make Up,
Reuben Wilson,
Prince Buster,
New Age Steppers,
Sun Ra,
Surgeon,
Hot Snakes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bush Tetras,
Matthew Halsall,
Rites of Spring,
Shuggie Otis,
the Soft Cell,
Colin Newman,
Animal Collective,
Babytalk,
U.S. Maple,
Todd Terry,
Althea and Donna,
Cymande,
Lucky Dragons,
Michelle Simonal,
Scrapy,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.