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 Mozambique and from Milan.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 oboe 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 Hasil Adkins to the dance 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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Sex Pistols,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joyce Sims,
Freddie Wadling,
Thompson Twins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lakeside,
Babytalk,
Young Marble Giants,
Gong,
Amon Düül II,
Matthew Bourne,
Don Cherry,
Neu!,
Scrapy,
Excepter,
Yazoo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bob Dylan,
Soft Machine,
KRS-One,
Make Up,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Khruangbin,
The Monks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Porter Ricks,
Mantronix,
Alison Limerick,
Aaron Thompson,
Shuggie Otis,
The Modern Lovers,
Delon & Dalcan,
ABBA,
Tears for Fears,
Icehouse,
Pantaleimon,
Chrome,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Robert Hood,
Prince Buster,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Monolake,
Fela Kuti,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barrington Levy,
Joy Division,
Organ,
Colin Newman,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eddi Front,
The Mummies,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ralphi Rosario,
Con Funk Shun,
Little Man,
The Leaves,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.