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 Chile and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 the Soft Cell to the rap 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Simply Red,
Eddi Front,
The Barracudas,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scientists,
Ralphi Rosario,
Soft Cell,
Pantaleimon,
Swans,
Model 500,
Michelle Simonal,
EPMD,
Drive Like Jehu,
Angry Samoans,
Black Bananas,
Nico,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Association,
Surgeon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lightning Bolt,
Roxette,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Fuzztones,
Ronan,
Theoretical Girls,
Guru Guru,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Schoolly D,
The Slackers,
X-101,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harry Pussy,
Ultra Naté,
Todd Rundgren,
Trumans Water,
the Normal,
the Swans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gang of Four,
The Invisible,
Sarah Menescal,
Tomorrow,
The Pop Group,
U.S. Maple,
Moebius,
Soul Sonic Force,
Scrapy,
Joey Negro,
Letta Mbulu,
The Modern Lovers,
June Days,
Index,
MC5,
a-ha,
cv313,
The Residents,
The Blues Magoos,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.