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 Guatemala and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grime 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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Das Ding,
The Barracudas,
Cheater Slicks,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Skatalites,
Loose Ends,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Oneida,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Maleditus Sound,
The Dead C,
The Durutti Column,
The Red Krayola,
Harry Pussy,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Fire Engines,
The Star Department,
Alphaville,
Funky Four + One,
Spandau Ballet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Derrick Morgan,
Unrelated Segments,
The Slits,
Lou Reed,
Pussy Galore,
Lungfish,
Deadbeat,
The Blackbyrds,
Los Fastidios,
Lyres,
Sonny Sharrock,
Porter Ricks,
The Fortunes,
Mark Hollis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bob Dylan,
Television,
Hardrive,
Tim Buckley,
The Blues Magoos,
Au Pairs,
Bush Tetras,
Throbbing Gristle,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Fugs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Depeche Mode,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harmonia,
La Düsseldorf,
Roxy Music,
E-Dancer,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Stiv Bators,
Trumans Water,
Scan 7,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.