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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Normal to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
The Fortunes,
Dave Gahan,
Scott Walker,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sparks,
Pagans,
David Bowie,
Beasts of Bourbon,
X-Ray Spex,
Rosa Yemen,
The Saints,
New Age Steppers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Graham Central Station,
Jerry's Kids,
Maleditus Sound,
Fat Boys,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lee Hazlewood,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Niagra,
Basic Channel,
The Divine Comedy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Desert Stars,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roger Hodgson,
Silicon Teens,
The Grass Roots,
Tom Boy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Swans,
Shuggie Otis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sixth Finger,
Moby Grape,
Laurel Aitken,
Roy Ayers,
The Leaves,
Sarah Menescal,
The Monks,
The Fire Engines,
Minny Pops,
Brand Nubian,
Bronski Beat,
The Vogues,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ralphi Rosario,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
China Crisis,
Suburban Knight,
Japan,
Marshall Jefferson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Roxy Music,
Althea and Donna,
Jacob Miller,
Sonny Sharrock,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.