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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 Mexico City and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Traffic Nightmare to the punk 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Stiv Bators,
Organ,
Ten City,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Dual Sessions,
Magma,
Goldenarms,
Gichy Dan,
John Cale,
Sällskapet,
Circle Jerks,
MC5,
Radio Birdman,
EPMD,
Audionom,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Almond,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Liliput,
Wasted Youth,
X-101,
Duran Duran,
The Residents,
Ultravox,
Los Fastidios,
Frankie Knuckles,
Trumans Water,
The Fuzztones,
the Swans,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Aural Exciters,
Al Stewart,
Radiopuhelimet,
Reuben Wilson,
Cymande,
Porter Ricks,
Siglo XX,
the Sonics,
Scion,
The Detroit Cobras,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gladiators,
Vainqueur,
Soft Machine,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minny Pops,
John Foxx,
Camouflage,
Derrick Morgan,
The Standells,
U.S. Maple,
Livin' Joy,
Procol Harum,
Tommy Roe,
Dark Day,
The Pop Group,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Mojo Men,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.