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 Botswana and from New York.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Underground Resistance to the electroclash 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 Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Oblivians,
Section 25,
Depeche Mode,
the Soft Cell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Barbara Tucker,
Man Parrish,
Monolake,
Wasted Youth,
Masters at Work,
Lungfish,
Rakim,
Dorothy Ashby,
Robert Wyatt,
Bob Dylan,
Rapeman,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
David Axelrod,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kevin Saunderson,
Brand Nubian,
Donald Byrd,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
In Retrospect,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Shoche,
Funky Four + One,
Main Source,
Sparks,
The Electric Prunes,
The Mummies,
Eli Mardock,
Thompson Twins,
The Monks,
L. Decosne,
John Lydon,
The Remains,
Max Romeo,
Ultravox,
Robert Görl,
Kerri Chandler,
Black Pus,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Count Five,
The Grass Roots,
The American Breed,
Marcia Griffiths,
Von Mondo,
June of 44,
The Buckinghams,
Glenn Branca,
Fat Boys,
Juan Atkins,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fugazi,
Whodini,
D'Angelo,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.