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 Nigeria and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Fela Kuti to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Dark Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MDC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Amon Düül,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rod Modell,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Last Poets,
Rites of Spring,
Thompson Twins,
Boredoms,
Ten City,
U.S. Maple,
Pet Shop Boys,
Laurel Aitken,
The Slackers,
John Holt,
The Trojans,
Cheater Slicks,
Siglo XX,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dennis Brown,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Walker Brothers,
The Vogues,
Severed Heads,
Freddie Wadling,
cv313,
Don Cherry,
Scan 7,
Sällskapet,
Nick Fraelich,
Jerry's Kids,
Sight & Sound,
Black Pus,
The Alarm Clocks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Q and Not U,
The Moleskins,
Bang On A Can,
Juan Atkins,
Mark Hollis,
The Sonics,
The Monochrome Set,
L. Decosne,
Joe Finger,
The Smiths,
The Zeros,
Kenny Larkin,
Soft Cell,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
New Order,
Leonard Cohen,
Reuben Wilson,
The Wake,
Alison Limerick,
Dual Sessions,
Fad Gadget,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.