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 Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba 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 Human League to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Erykah Badu,
Depeche Mode,
Delon & Dalcan,
Junior Murvin,
Kayak,
Pierre Henry,
Wally Richardson,
Eden Ahbez,
Bluetip,
The Beau Brummels,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rapeman,
Grauzone,
Henry Cow,
Rakim,
New York Dolls,
The Modern Lovers,
Rites of Spring,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Litter,
The Smoke,
Moby Grape,
Sällskapet,
Essential Logic,
The Cowsills,
Anthony Braxton,
The Fuzztones,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Germs,
Scrapy,
The Zeros,
Deakin,
Laurel Aitken,
Arcadia,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Moleskins,
Donny Hathaway,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Offenders,
Morten Harket,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Urselle,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Alarm Clocks,
Stetsasonic,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Saints,
Khruangbin,
Tom Boy,
Gong,
Cheater Slicks,
Bad Manners,
Mission of Burma,
Nick Fraelich,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Fire Engines,
Suburban Knight,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Almond,
Derrick Morgan,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.