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 Kazakhstan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Rufus Thomas to the grime 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 Eurythmics. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Babytalk,
Infiniti,
Jacques Brel,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tomorrow,
Fluxion,
Donny Hathaway,
Livin' Joy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fela Kuti,
Funky Four + One,
Bob Dylan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Byrd,
Robert Hood,
Harry Pussy,
Heaven 17,
June Days,
Crooked Eye,
The Searchers,
Cal Tjader,
The Cowsills,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Chris & Cosey,
Deakin,
Royal Trux,
Swell Maps,
Inner City,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Masters at Work,
Josef K,
Amazonics,
Desert Stars,
D'Angelo,
Magazine,
Matthew Bourne,
Agent Orange,
Byron Stingily,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Soul Sonic Force,
Freddie Wadling,
Bizarre Inc.,
E-Dancer,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Quadrant,
Drexciya,
Pet Shop Boys,
Joensuu 1685,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dark Day,
The Moody Blues,
The Real Kids,
Bauhaus,
Gabor Szabo,
The Skatalites,
Yazoo,
Metal Thangz,
Altered Images,
Whodini,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.