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 Romania and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Eric B and Rakim to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Desert Stars,
Fela Kuti,
ABBA,
The Fortunes,
Dead Boys,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nico,
James White and The Blacks,
Nick Fraelich,
Dual Sessions,
The Cramps,
The Divine Comedy,
The Dirtbombs,
Subhumans,
X-101,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Angels of Light,
Althea and Donna,
In Retrospect,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gregory Isaacs,
Procol Harum,
Wolf Eyes,
Charles Mingus,
Mandrill,
The Misunderstood,
Alphaville,
The Sonics,
The Smoke,
Qualms,
Average White Band,
Soul II Soul,
Jawbox,
Warsaw,
Soulsonic Force,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gong,
Joe Smooth,
Youth Brigade,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Pretty Things,
MDC,
Rod Modell,
Bobby Sherman,
The Zeros,
48th St. Collective,
Eurythmics,
Bluetip,
Peter & Gordon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Y Pants,
Lungfish,
The Monochrome Set,
Joensuu 1685,
Swans,
The Count Five,
Easy Going,
Zero Boys,
Yaz,
Skriet,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.