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 Sudan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Accra.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Leonard Cohen to the grime 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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Robert Hood,
Panda Bear,
MDC,
Aswad,
Public Image Ltd.,
Dawn Penn,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Walker Brothers,
The J.B.'s,
Moebius,
48th St. Collective,
Sällskapet,
The Fortunes,
Rakim,
Connie Case,
Das Ding,
Reagan Youth,
The Slackers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moby Grape,
The Dirtbombs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Spoonie Gee,
Clear Light,
Groovy Waters,
Jeff Mills,
the Fania All-Stars,
Malaria!,
Arthur Verocai,
Marc Almond,
Chris Corsano,
Gichy Dan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
June of 44,
Deepchord,
Zero Boys,
The Mojo Men,
Echospace,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Monochrome Set,
Ossler,
Franke,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tres Demented,
The Black Dice,
Essential Logic,
kango's stein massive,
Alice Coltrane,
Charles Mingus,
Marmalade,
Public Enemy,
Easy Going,
Drive Like Jehu,
Shoche,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Maleditus Sound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Avey Tare,
Bobby Sherman,
PIL,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.