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 South Sudan and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Janne Schatter. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Andrew Hill,
Eurythmics,
Bobby Hutcherson,
FM Einheit,
Pylon,
the Soft Cell,
Juan Atkins,
The Star Department,
The Red Krayola,
The Happenings,
Delon & Dalcan,
Khruangbin,
Circle Jerks,
Cameo,
June of 44,
Erasure,
Trumans Water,
This Heat,
Angry Samoans,
Chris Corsano,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cecil Taylor,
The Raincoats,
Ultra Naté,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Buzzcocks,
Outsiders,
Second Layer,
One Last Wish,
Arab on Radar,
Camouflage,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Curtis Mayfield,
X-102,
John Coltrane,
Radiohead,
Fela Kuti,
Visage,
The Trojans,
Panda Bear,
Groovy Waters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Chrome,
Agent Orange,
Magazine,
Lalann,
Liliput,
Rapeman,
Ronan,
Glenn Branca,
Sonic Youth,
Television,
Bobby Womack,
The Seeds,
Scion,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Christie,
Bronski Beat,
Kayak,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.