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 Cameroon and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 arpeggiator 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the dance 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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Gang Starr,
Swans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Morten Harket,
Livin' Joy,
Man Parrish,
Mandrill,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Arcadia,
8 Eyed Spy,
Dark Day,
Country Teasers,
Oblivians,
Harry Pussy,
This Heat,
Donald Byrd,
Ornette Coleman,
David Bowie,
Marmalade,
Guru Guru,
the Soft Cell,
Mary Jane Girls,
Slave,
Faraquet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Underground Resistance,
The Knickerbockers,
a-ha,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Happenings,
Oneida,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nas,
Skriet,
The Selecter,
Mars,
Youth Brigade,
Nik Kershaw,
The Sound,
Technova,
Lightning Bolt,
The Misunderstood,
Banda Bassotti,
PIL,
Sight & Sound,
The Birthday Party,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Aural Exciters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ludus,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pere Ubu,
The Durutti Column,
Crooked Eye,
Public Enemy,
Hashim,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Scrapy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.