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 Benin and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Tres Demented to the rap 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 The Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar 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 Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pierre Henry,
Talk Talk,
Porter Ricks,
Cecil Taylor,
Jerry's Kids,
B.T. Express,
Alton Ellis,
Slave,
The Residents,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Flipper,
Animal Collective,
a-ha,
The Red Krayola,
Eurythmics,
Kayak,
Circle Jerks,
the Swans,
EPMD,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Black Moon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Alice Coltrane,
The Dead C,
World's Most,
Peter and Kerry,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Minutemen,
the Human League,
Nick Fraelich,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Christie,
Robert Görl,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The United States of America,
Fat Boys,
X-102,
Skaos,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Amazonics,
X-101,
Laurel Aitken,
Outsiders,
Camouflage,
Mark Hollis,
Suicide,
Marine Girls,
Ronnie Foster,
Television Personalities,
Idris Muhammad,
the Soft Cell,
John Foxx,
Mr. Review,
Scott Walker,
Inner City,
Bluetip,
Scientists,
Quantec,
Matthew Bourne,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.