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 Portugal and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 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 the Normal to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
EPMD,
the Slits,
The Monochrome Set,
Con Funk Shun,
Symarip,
Essential Logic,
Reagan Youth,
Icehouse,
The Dirtbombs,
Gang Green,
The Wake,
the Germs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Letta Mbulu,
Gastr Del Sol,
T.S.O.L.,
Don Cherry,
La Düsseldorf,
Albert Ayler,
Man Eating Sloth,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bill Near,
Pantaleimon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kurtis Blow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Divine Comedy,
The Victims,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Donny Hathaway,
Monolake,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Byron Stingily,
Severed Heads,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mars,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Radiohead,
Yusef Lateef,
Slick Rick,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gil Scott Heron,
Subhumans,
Monks,
Trumans Water,
The Fugs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Isaac Hayes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Grauzone,
Althea and Donna,
Steve Hackett,
The Fire Engines,
Fat Boys,
The Red Krayola,
Rotary Connection,
Television,
the Normal,
Pierre Henry,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Misunderstood,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.