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 Syria and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator 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 Glambeats Corp. to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Slave 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 electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sandy B,
Gabor Szabo,
Flash Fearless,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Electric Prunes,
World's Most,
F. McDonald,
Can,
Mandrill,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Main Source,
Sound Behaviour,
Robert Görl,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dead Boys,
Smog,
Quantec,
Donny Hathaway,
Marc Almond,
The Skatalites,
Franke,
a-ha,
Connie Case,
Bronski Beat,
Roxette,
Stiv Bators,
MC5,
Jerry's Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cluster,
Amazonics,
Zero Boys,
Ituana,
The Martian,
Ossler,
Zapp,
Pantaleimon,
Eurythmics,
Alison Limerick,
Faraquet,
David Axelrod,
Vladislav Delay,
Television Personalities,
DJ Sneak,
The Evens,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Kaleidoscope,
The Moleskins,
The Mojo Men,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bauhaus,
LL Cool J,
Sun Ra,
The Offenders,
Black Flag,
Goldenarms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sixth Finger,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.