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 Kyrgyzstan and from Mumbai.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the rap 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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Names,
Mo-Dettes,
Kenny Larkin,
Vladislav Delay,
the Fania All-Stars,
Zapp,
Pussy Galore,
Thee Headcoats,
cv313,
Neu!,
Nick Fraelich,
The Star Department,
Reagan Youth,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Leaves,
Whodini,
Depeche Mode,
Jeru the Damaja,
Echospace,
Altered Images,
Grauzone,
The Motions,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fela Kuti,
Byron Stingily,
Second Layer,
Kevin Saunderson,
Scientists,
Ultra Naté,
Qualms,
Mr. Review,
Bob Dylan,
Joensuu 1685,
Jacques Brel,
Television Personalities,
MC5,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Max Romeo,
Brass Construction,
Laurel Aitken,
Pierre Henry,
Eric Copeland,
Idris Muhammad,
Siglo XX,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Foxx,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Gladiators,
The Dave Clark Five,
Circle Jerks,
Kerri Chandler,
Lebanon Hanover,
Absolute Body Control,
Blake Baxter,
Joe Finger,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Franke,
Radiohead,
Gang of Four,
The Knickerbockers,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.