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 Albania and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 theremin 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the funk 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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Fortunes,
The Wake,
Tim Buckley,
Man Parrish,
Soulsonic Force,
Anthony Braxton,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dorothy Ashby,
Colin Newman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
X-Ray Spex,
Monks,
Chris Corsano,
Roger Hodgson,
Roxy Music,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
X-102,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Zapp,
The Last Poets,
Moss Icon,
Fear,
Depeche Mode,
Dave Gahan,
Yusef Lateef,
Chrome,
Mars,
John Cale,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tom Boy,
Wire,
Sun Ra,
Roy Ayers,
Siglo XX,
Lakeside,
In Retrospect,
Organ,
The Raincoats,
The Beau Brummels,
David McCallum,
Loose Ends,
Visage,
The Fire Engines,
Fad Gadget,
The United States of America,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rosa Yemen,
Kas Product,
Kerri Chandler,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
June Days,
The Selecter,
Newcleus,
Reagan Youth,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pere Ubu,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Panda Bear,
Black Moon,
The Gap Band,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.