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 Russia and from Shanghai.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 48th St. Collective to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Dawn Penn,
Joensuu 1685,
The Cowsills,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Joyce Sims,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marshall Jefferson,
Minny Pops,
Quadrant,
U.S. Maple,
F. McDonald,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yazoo,
Ken Boothe,
Spandau Ballet,
The Music Machine,
June Days,
Second Layer,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Soul II Soul,
The Durutti Column,
Altered Images,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Remains,
Curtis Mayfield,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sam Rivers,
T. Rex,
Spoonie Gee,
Roy Ayers,
Fugazi,
Michelle Simonal,
Talk Talk,
Man Eating Sloth,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marmalade,
Massinfluence,
The New Christs,
LL Cool J,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Monolake,
Echospace,
Howard Jones,
The Skatalites,
Toni Rubio,
Gang Green,
Wings,
Organ,
Sparks,
Soft Machine,
Rites of Spring,
The Misunderstood,
Can,
Lee Hazlewood,
Babytalk,
Sun Ra,
Pet Shop Boys,
The American Breed,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.