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 Nauru and from Paris.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 ABC to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Scratch Acid,
Laurel Aitken,
Tom Boy,
Josef K,
Goldenarms,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rotary Connection,
DNA,
Rapeman,
Gerry Rafferty,
F. McDonald,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Graham Central Station,
Accadde A,
Johnny Osbourne,
One Last Wish,
Oblivians,
Black Sheep,
Cluster,
Hot Snakes,
Lou Christie,
Gregory Isaacs,
Barrington Levy,
Pulsallama,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pagans,
Yaz,
The Saints,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Matthew Bourne,
Jesper Dahlback,
Motorama,
Faraquet,
This Heat,
These Immortal Souls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kool Moe Dee,
D'Angelo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Letta Mbulu,
The Index,
Radio Birdman,
Crooked Eye,
Warsaw,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scott Walker,
Sonny Sharrock,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Roxy Music,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Monks,
Trumans Water,
Popol Vuh,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Germs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The United States of America,
David Bowie,
Donald Byrd,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.