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 Marshall Islands and from Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Clear Light to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ohio Players,
Trumans Water,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Mojo Men,
Talk Talk,
The Smiths,
Matthew Bourne,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Mummies,
The Barracudas,
Malaria!,
Janne Schatter,
Chrome,
Cybotron,
Pantaleimon,
Leonard Cohen,
Ralphi Rosario,
Infiniti,
Stiv Bators,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Germs,
Mo-Dettes,
AZ,
Stereo Dub,
Absolute Body Control,
Patti Smith,
Brand Nubian,
Grandmaster Flash,
Idris Muhammad,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Vainqueur,
Rosa Yemen,
Eli Mardock,
Siglo XX,
The Names,
Charles Mingus,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Yusef Lateef,
Eddi Front,
Robert Görl,
Shoche,
The Pretty Things,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Normal,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Los Fastidios,
Gang of Four,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kenny Larkin,
Tears for Fears,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ken Boothe,
Fugazi,
Ultra Naté,
Roger Hodgson,
Easy Going,
The Monks,
June Days,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.