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 Guinea and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Terrestrial Tones to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Carl Craig,
Q and Not U,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gabor Szabo,
Slave,
New Order,
Sugar Minott,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jeff Lynne,
The Count Five,
The Red Krayola,
Public Enemy,
Con Funk Shun,
The Fall,
Saccharine Trust,
the Association,
Brick,
Junior Murvin,
Interpol,
Tomorrow,
Sam Rivers,
Leonard Cohen,
Deadbeat,
the Human League,
Pierre Henry,
Freddie Wadling,
June of 44,
The Five Americans,
Josef K,
Derrick Morgan,
The Fire Engines,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Excepter,
The Doobie Brothers,
Robert Wyatt,
The Cowsills,
These Immortal Souls,
KRS-One,
Peter & Gordon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Radio Birdman,
Jandek,
The Offenders,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Massinfluence,
New York Dolls,
Joyce Sims,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ornette Coleman,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gong,
Boredoms,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mr. Review,
The Fugs,
Rapeman,
The Gap Band,
Inner City,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.