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 Lebanon and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 snare 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 Dead C to the electroclash 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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Ludus,
The Pretty Things,
Anthony Braxton,
Roger Hodgson,
Hardrive,
Yazoo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Joey Negro,
Ultimate Spinach,
David Axelrod,
Qualms,
Charles Mingus,
Pulsallama,
Tubeway Army,
Boz Scaggs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jeff Mills,
Dark Day,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tears for Fears,
Inner City,
B.T. Express,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Porter Ricks,
Roxy Music,
Eurythmics,
Outsiders,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
X-102,
Minor Threat,
The Residents,
Young Marble Giants,
Michelle Simonal,
Ponytail,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Vainqueur,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Stetsasonic,
Essential Logic,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bill Wells,
The Smoke,
Minny Pops,
Desert Stars,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang Gang Dance,
Harmonia,
Shoche,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Steve Hackett,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Soft Cell,
Bluetip,
Drexciya,
Gang Green,
Moebius,
Buzzcocks,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.