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 Venezuela and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord 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 Mr. Review to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The J.B.'s,
Juan Atkins,
The Real Kids,
Skaos,
Rekid,
Kurtis Blow,
JFA,
Livin' Joy,
The Sound,
The Offenders,
Faust,
Moby Grape,
Skarface,
Make Up,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Davy DMX,
Second Layer,
Man Parrish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crispian St. Peters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cameo,
X-Ray Spex,
Aloha Tigers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Newcleus,
Subhumans,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pagans,
The Count Five,
Rapeman,
Wings,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fluxion,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ludus,
KRS-One,
Siglo XX,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Metal Thangz,
Neil Young,
Massinfluence,
The Busters,
Oneida,
Young Marble Giants,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wasted Youth,
The Martian,
Fela Kuti,
Marine Girls,
Black Pus,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rotary Connection,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
David McCallum,
A Certain Ratio,
Thompson Twins,
Warsaw,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.