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 Maldives and from Jakarta.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 A Flock of Seagulls to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Bill Wells,
Ronan,
Pussy Galore,
Maurizio,
a-ha,
Outsiders,
JFA,
The Motions,
Subhumans,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The New Christs,
The Monochrome Set,
The American Breed,
Sex Pistols,
Ultimate Spinach,
Young Marble Giants,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Holt,
Amazonics,
Frankie Knuckles,
Index,
The Walker Brothers,
LL Cool J,
Lungfish,
Derrick May,
Skaos,
Donny Hathaway,
Crime,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Section 25,
The Monks,
Ken Boothe,
Leonard Cohen,
The Evens,
DJ Sneak,
Alphaville,
Eden Ahbez,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Soul II Soul,
Babytalk,
Mr. Review,
The Doobie Brothers,
Faraquet,
the Sonics,
Gang of Four,
New York Dolls,
Al Stewart,
Aaron Thompson,
Man Parrish,
DNA,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Busters,
Mars,
Quantec,
Fad Gadget,
Nico,
Laurel Aitken,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.