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 Jordan and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bologna.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the rock 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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Young Marble Giants,
Patti Smith,
Clear Light,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Knickerbockers,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Association,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tom Boy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Soft Cell,
Kerri Chandler,
Pierre Henry,
Little Man,
the Bar-Kays,
The Martian,
The Fire Engines,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gichy Dan,
Radio Birdman,
F. McDonald,
Depeche Mode,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gang Green,
The Doors,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wings,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joe Finger,
The Toasters,
Aural Exciters,
The Misunderstood,
L. Decosne,
Desert Stars,
Parry Music,
Television Personalities,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Average White Band,
Peter and Kerry,
B.T. Express,
Sexual Harrassment,
Interpol,
The Doobie Brothers,
Audionom,
Essential Logic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Outsiders,
Los Fastidios,
Drexciya,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sarah Menescal,
Severed Heads,
Rites of Spring,
Loose Ends,
Jeff Mills,
Arab on Radar,
Swans,
The Move,
Tropical Tobacco,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.