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 Vietnam and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Erykah Badu to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
D'Angelo,
Mission of Burma,
Max Romeo,
Joey Negro,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang Green,
Sun City Girls,
The Misunderstood,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Anakelly,
Terry Callier,
Andrew Hill,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
These Immortal Souls,
Todd Terry,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mark Hollis,
Silicon Teens,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Pus,
Panda Bear,
The Gladiators,
Soft Cell,
PIL,
UT,
Lou Reed,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Modern Lovers,
Amazonics,
Bob Dylan,
Eden Ahbez,
Bronski Beat,
The Slits,
The Doors,
Bobby Sherman,
Yellowson,
L. Decosne,
Fluxion,
Pulsallama,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Subhumans,
Minny Pops,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Los Fastidios,
Don Cherry,
Davy DMX,
Kevin Saunderson,
Marshall Jefferson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Delta 5,
Ultra Naté,
The Pretty Things,
Audionom,
Ice-T,
Gong,
The Moody Blues,
The Evens,
OOIOO,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.