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 Hungary and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 B.T. Express to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Invisible. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
June of 44,
Ralphi Rosario,
Index,
Scrapy,
Quando Quango,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Royal Trux,
Sexual Harrassment,
Oblivians,
Cal Tjader,
Theoretical Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Litter,
Whodini,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Surgeon,
Big Daddy Kane,
Second Layer,
Steve Hackett,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Görl,
Ultra Naté,
The Last Poets,
Country Teasers,
The Beau Brummels,
Cybotron,
Kayak,
Black Moon,
Jacques Brel,
Zero Boys,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Soul II Soul,
Crispy Ambulance,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Isaac Hayes,
DJ Style,
Rites of Spring,
Lower 48,
The Alarm Clocks,
Symarip,
Brick,
a-ha,
Colin Newman,
The Fugs,
PIL,
Ronnie Foster,
These Immortal Souls,
Aaron Thompson,
Skarface,
Nik Kershaw,
Gang Starr,
In Retrospect,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Livin' Joy,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.