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 Yemen and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Gong to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Fat Boys,
Grauzone,
Bush Tetras,
Metal Thangz,
The J.B.'s,
Sight & Sound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eddi Front,
Robert Wyatt,
Magazine,
The Cramps,
Stockholm Monsters,
Shuggie Otis,
Sister Nancy,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Byron Stingily,
Cybotron,
Circle Jerks,
Visage,
Minnie Riperton,
Warren Ellis,
Swell Maps,
Mars,
Camberwell Now,
Easy Going,
Yusef Lateef,
The Kinks,
The Fire Engines,
China Crisis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Dual Sessions,
Monolake,
Piero Umiliani,
John Coltrane,
The Electric Prunes,
The Raincoats,
The Invisible,
Frankie Knuckles,
Inner City,
Leonard Cohen,
Camouflage,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Stooges,
UT,
Suburban Knight,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Black Flag,
Arab on Radar,
a-ha,
Marc Almond,
Masters at Work,
Bad Manners,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Faraquet,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.