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 Sweden and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 kango's stein massive to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Section 25,
The New Christs,
Mars,
Pylon,
Echospace,
Schoolly D,
Masters at Work,
Wally Richardson,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Unrelated Segments,
Pussy Galore,
Junior Murvin,
Icehouse,
Skaos,
Surgeon,
Au Pairs,
Radiopuhelimet,
Radiohead,
Shuggie Otis,
Nils Olav,
Angry Samoans,
Frankie Knuckles,
Albert Ayler,
Vladislav Delay,
Alton Ellis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Skarface,
Delta 5,
Camouflage,
Robert Görl,
Rod Modell,
Youth Brigade,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Sound,
Unwound,
Sex Pistols,
Dave Gahan,
Lungfish,
Essential Logic,
Barry Ungar,
Blossom Toes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Real Kids,
The Five Americans,
Average White Band,
Joey Negro,
Rakim,
Barclay James Harvest,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Oneida,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Avey Tare,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Byrd,
Blake Baxter,
Gang of Four,
Flash Fearless,
Byron Stingily,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.