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 Australia 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lille.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Lucky Dragons,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Laurel Aitken,
the Association,
Cybotron,
Fatback Band,
Funkadelic,
Arcadia,
Tears for Fears,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultravox,
The Vogues,
Technova,
Albert Ayler,
Warren Ellis,
Charles Mingus,
Robert Wyatt,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bob Dylan,
Joy Division,
Stockholm Monsters,
Theoretical Girls,
Robert Hood,
Basic Channel,
Robert Görl,
Roy Ayers,
The Names,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ornette Coleman,
Brothers Johnson,
Camberwell Now,
Matthew Bourne,
The Sonics,
Bizarre Inc.,
The American Breed,
The Litter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Underground Resistance,
Grauzone,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Chrome,
Skarface,
U.S. Maple,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Saints,
La Düsseldorf,
The Modern Lovers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Suburban Knight,
Barry Ungar,
Harpers Bizarre,
Audionom,
Index,
Roger Hodgson,
Youth Brigade,
Scratch Acid,
X-101,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.