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 Albania and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the funk 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alison Limerick,
Tomorrow,
Stereo Dub,
Aaron Thompson,
Unrelated Segments,
Interpol,
Bush Tetras,
The Raincoats,
Sun City Girls,
Scott Walker,
Nirvana,
Toni Rubio,
The Blues Magoos,
Chrome,
Sparks,
Arab on Radar,
Minor Threat,
Ornette Coleman,
B.T. Express,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Slits,
X-101,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Agent Orange,
Babytalk,
Pussy Galore,
Marcia Griffiths,
Donny Hathaway,
Little Man,
Brass Construction,
Magazine,
The Young Rascals,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Clear Light,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Dead Boys,
Bill Wells,
Stiv Bators,
Television,
Visage,
Peter and Kerry,
Technova,
Patti Smith,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Radiohead,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Crispian St. Peters,
Silicon Teens,
Porter Ricks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Steve Hackett,
Zero Boys,
Don Cherry,
Althea and Donna,
Tears for Fears,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sugar Minott,
Faust,
The Gories,
Deepchord,
Hardrive,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Gap Band,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.