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 Norway and from Lyon.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Fela Kuti to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro 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 mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Cure,
Harry Pussy,
Animal Collective,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Fortunes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fela Kuti,
Don Cherry,
The Wake,
Siglo XX,
the Human League,
Make Up,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bob Dylan,
Reagan Youth,
Skarface,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Golliwogs,
Quando Quango,
Aswad,
The Smiths,
the Soft Cell,
Cymande,
Soul II Soul,
the Association,
Rod Modell,
Ludus,
MDC,
Judy Mowatt,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Drive Like Jehu,
Blancmange,
Lucky Dragons,
Sun City Girls,
Outsiders,
Q and Not U,
Nation of Ulysses,
Boz Scaggs,
Pantaleimon,
Masters at Work,
The J.B.'s,
David Bowie,
Procol Harum,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Evens,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Basic Channel,
Soft Cell,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sexual Harrassment,
Organ,
Rekid,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Scan 7,
Scion,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.