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 Argentina and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eyeless In Gaza to the dance 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Vladislav Delay,
Monks,
Inner City,
Susan Cadogan,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
New Age Steppers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Grass Roots,
Mission of Burma,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sparks,
Agitation Free,
Janne Schatter,
Public Image Ltd.,
Donald Byrd,
Roy Ayers,
The Trojans,
Eurythmics,
Sixth Finger,
Andrew Hill,
The Divine Comedy,
the Germs,
John Foxx,
The Raincoats,
Symarip,
Newcleus,
The Invisible,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Fugs,
Jandek,
Faraquet,
the Bar-Kays,
Yellowson,
Black Moon,
The Human League,
Lou Reed,
Fluxion,
Gichy Dan,
H. Thieme,
the Soft Cell,
Bad Manners,
Barrington Levy,
The Fortunes,
Rosa Yemen,
Slick Rick,
the Association,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rites of Spring,
The Music Machine,
La Düsseldorf,
The Stooges,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Man Eating Sloth,
Laurel Aitken,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pagans,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.