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 Cape Verde and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Brick to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Mary Jane Girls,
Severed Heads,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Offenders,
Howard Jones,
Agitation Free,
The Modern Lovers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roxy Music,
Wolf Eyes,
June Days,
Goldenarms,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Big Daddy Kane,
Thee Headcoats,
Supertramp,
Nas,
Tropical Tobacco,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ronan,
The Gap Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Faust,
Loose Ends,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Blackbyrds,
The Searchers,
Saccharine Trust,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Doobie Brothers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Dead Boys,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Reagan Youth,
Susan Cadogan,
Eurythmics,
F. McDonald,
Public Image Ltd.,
The J.B.'s,
Flipper,
The Sonics,
David Bowie,
Porter Ricks,
Warren Ellis,
The Kinks,
Scientists,
Rosa Yemen,
Sugar Minott,
Oneida,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sandy B,
Bad Manners,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.