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 Marshall Islands and from Halifax.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Mumbai.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the techno 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marine Girls,
The Residents,
Oblivians,
The Golliwogs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harmonia,
Tommy Roe,
Tres Demented,
Thompson Twins,
Eurythmics,
ABBA,
Cal Tjader,
DNA,
Ten City,
Thee Headcoats,
Deepchord,
Tubeway Army,
AZ,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Vogues,
Marmalade,
Joe Finger,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Holt,
Aural Exciters,
Barrington Levy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ultra Naté,
Marc Almond,
B.T. Express,
The Smoke,
Darondo,
The Cramps,
Stockholm Monsters,
Reuben Wilson,
June Days,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lalann,
Sugar Minott,
Bill Wells,
Carl Craig,
ABC,
Matthew Bourne,
Minny Pops,
The United States of America,
Joey Negro,
Delon & Dalcan,
Absolute Body Control,
Juan Atkins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bad Manners,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
CMW,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.