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 Senegal and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Curtis Mayfield to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marine Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Make Up,
Technova,
Morten Harket,
Ornette Coleman,
Pagans,
Bobby Womack,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eve St. Jones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Germs,
The Barracudas,
Talk Talk,
Masters at Work,
Symarip,
U.S. Maple,
The Associates,
Skriet,
Essential Logic,
Slick Rick,
New York Dolls,
Man Eating Sloth,
James White and The Blacks,
Magazine,
Pantytec,
Gil Scott Heron,
Todd Rundgren,
Unrelated Segments,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rotary Connection,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Monks,
Ultra Naté,
Vladislav Delay,
David Bowie,
Graham Central Station,
Brand Nubian,
Bill Near,
Lungfish,
Isaac Hayes,
Harmonia,
The Sonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wings,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rhythm & Sound,
Parry Music,
Tears for Fears,
Depeche Mode,
The Angels of Light,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fad Gadget,
Hashim,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Michelle Simonal,
Boredoms,
Public Image Ltd.,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bang On A Can,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.