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 Albania and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Dave Gahan to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Soft Cell,
Fugazi,
Moss Icon,
Soulsonic Force,
Scratch Acid,
Procol Harum,
The Golliwogs,
Shoche,
Nas,
Ronan,
Amon Düül,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sugar Minott,
Black Sheep,
Roger Hodgson,
Man Eating Sloth,
a-ha,
Connie Case,
Supertramp,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Leaves,
June of 44,
Harry Pussy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rites of Spring,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Grass Roots,
Patti Smith,
Sarah Menescal,
Deepchord,
Cameo,
Scientists,
Joyce Sims,
These Immortal Souls,
In Retrospect,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Derrick May,
Altered Images,
Depeche Mode,
Loose Ends,
Wally Richardson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lower 48,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bill Near,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rufus Thomas,
Funkadelic,
Stiv Bators,
DJ Sneak,
Delta 5,
Simply Red,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crash Course in Science,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sun City Girls,
The Seeds,
Tom Boy,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.