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 Dominica and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Glasgow and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 sitar 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 Los Fastidios to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Nik Kershaw,
Niagra,
Nick Fraelich,
The Remains,
The Standells,
Ice-T,
Harry Pussy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gang of Four,
Country Teasers,
The Dirtbombs,
Lucky Dragons,
Accadde A,
Malaria!,
Bill Wells,
Aswad,
Alphaville,
Michelle Simonal,
Television Personalities,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
June Days,
MDC,
In Retrospect,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jeff Mills,
Suburban Knight,
Bobby Sherman,
Sonny Sharrock,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Harmonia,
Faraquet,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Los Fastidios,
Quando Quango,
Scott Walker,
48th St. Collective,
Das Ding,
Japan,
Sarah Menescal,
Glambeats Corp.,
Unrelated Segments,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Modern Lovers,
The Leaves,
Hasil Adkins,
Lou Reed,
D'Angelo,
Nico,
Thompson Twins,
Con Funk Shun,
Camberwell Now,
The J.B.'s,
Wasted Youth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Essential Logic,
Model 500,
Fluxion,
Yusef Lateef,
Graham Central Station,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.