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 Nepal and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 spring reverb 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 American Breed 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiohead record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
the Normal,
Malaria!,
Das Ding,
Charles Mingus,
Ossler,
Joe Finger,
Vladislav Delay,
Banda Bassotti,
DJ Sneak,
the Soft Cell,
The Blues Magoos,
Mary Jane Girls,
Marvin Gaye,
Sam Rivers,
The Music Machine,
Amazonics,
Ronnie Foster,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Fortunes,
Dual Sessions,
Skriet,
Model 500,
the Bar-Kays,
Nation of Ulysses,
Absolute Body Control,
Crooked Eye,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Barbara Tucker,
Mantronix,
In Retrospect,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
E-Dancer,
Big Daddy Kane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Infiniti,
cv313,
Al Stewart,
Stetsasonic,
Bang On A Can,
kango's stein massive,
Talk Talk,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cal Tjader,
The Moody Blues,
Sun City Girls,
Jacob Miller,
Loose Ends,
Depeche Mode,
Fugazi,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
H. Thieme,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ludus,
Kas Product,
X-101,
The Neon Judgement,
Simply Red,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.