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 Bolivia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Buckinghams to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bizarre Inc.,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lindisfarne,
Scrapy,
World's Most,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sam Rivers,
Pere Ubu,
The Fugs,
Robert Hood,
The Five Americans,
Robert Wyatt,
The Busters,
D'Angelo,
Essential Logic,
Surgeon,
Chris Corsano,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
David Bowie,
Black Pus,
The Toasters,
Sexual Harrassment,
Magma,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Detroit Cobras,
Duran Duran,
Second Layer,
the Human League,
John Lydon,
Roxette,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Evens,
The Names,
Kool Moe Dee,
cv313,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Deadbeat,
A Certain Ratio,
Ossler,
Technova,
AZ,
The Residents,
Tom Boy,
The Fortunes,
The Modern Lovers,
Vladislav Delay,
Althea and Donna,
Television,
Amon Düül,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Erykah Badu,
Freddie Wadling,
Arcadia,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kaleidoscope,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.