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 Latvia and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Silicon Teens to the crunk 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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Howard Jones,
Lightning Bolt,
The Cowsills,
FM Einheit,
The Pretty Things,
Derrick May,
DNA,
Urselle,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Last Poets,
The Fugs,
KRS-One,
Deepchord,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Oblivians,
Parry Music,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Hasil Adkins,
Infiniti,
the Normal,
Bluetip,
Pole,
Absolute Body Control,
Newcleus,
Babytalk,
48th St. Collective,
The Toasters,
The American Breed,
Can,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Star Department,
Qualms,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Sheep,
H. Thieme,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suicide,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-Ray Spex,
Supertramp,
Audionom,
Thompson Twins,
Alphaville,
8 Eyed Spy,
Visage,
The Names,
Bill Near,
Blossom Toes,
Radio Birdman,
Tres Demented,
Au Pairs,
Dawn Penn,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nik Kershaw,
Masters at Work,
Dennis Brown,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Man Parrish,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.