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 Haiti and from Houston.
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 Tokyo and Manila.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Knickerbockers to the rock 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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Harry Pussy,
Avey Tare,
Godley & Creme,
New York Dolls,
Niagra,
Tears for Fears,
Pole,
Q65,
Khruangbin,
Aswad,
Newcleus,
Dead Boys,
Fatback Band,
Brass Construction,
Mad Mike,
Soul II Soul,
Stiv Bators,
Dorothy Ashby,
Oblivians,
Pylon,
Severed Heads,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Saccharine Trust,
Adolescents,
Bauhaus,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Divine Comedy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Banda Bassotti,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rhythm & Sound,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Buzzcocks,
Tubeway Army,
Trumans Water,
Goldenarms,
Bronski Beat,
The Dirtbombs,
Chris Corsano,
Depeche Mode,
Kevin Saunderson,
FM Einheit,
Fear,
Howard Jones,
Arab on Radar,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lungfish,
Metal Thangz,
Ossler,
The Fall,
Peter & Gordon,
KRS-One,
Sun City Girls,
Angry Samoans,
Easy Going,
Eurythmics,
Steve Hackett,
Glenn Branca,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kurtis Blow,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.