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 Costa Rica and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Fela Kuti to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Chrome,
Monolake,
The Red Krayola,
Tears for Fears,
Amazonics,
Scan 7,
The Beau Brummels,
Nirvana,
OOIOO,
Big Daddy Kane,
Absolute Body Control,
Josef K,
The Techniques,
Kenny Larkin,
Lalo Schifrin,
CMW,
Andrew Hill,
48th St. Collective,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ronan,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Cowsills,
Inner City,
Harry Pussy,
The Fugs,
Alphaville,
The Pop Group,
James Chance & The Contortions,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Depeche Mode,
Mr. Review,
Shoche,
Nation of Ulysses,
Judy Mowatt,
Derrick May,
Cluster,
The Black Dice,
Todd Rundgren,
Letta Mbulu,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jacob Miller,
Crash Course in Science,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
EPMD,
Archie Shepp,
T. Rex,
Blancmange,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rufus Thomas,
Sex Pistols,
Average White Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Essential Logic,
Delta 5,
Q and Not U,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wally Richardson,
Lalann,
The Selecter,
Ossler,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.