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 Argentina and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lyres to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Amon Düül,
Main Source,
Angry Samoans,
The Associates,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Visage,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang Starr,
Ice-T,
Theoretical Girls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Organ,
The Grass Roots,
Sonny Sharrock,
Mary Jane Girls,
Graham Central Station,
The Mojo Men,
Minny Pops,
Sällskapet,
Wings,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Aaron Thompson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Television Personalities,
Kerri Chandler,
Laurel Aitken,
Porter Ricks,
Brass Construction,
The Pop Group,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Duran Duran,
Brand Nubian,
Metal Thangz,
Das Ding,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Essential Logic,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Bar-Kays,
Brick,
Ultravox,
Yazoo,
Saccharine Trust,
the Slits,
Peter and Kerry,
K-Klass,
New Age Steppers,
Buzzcocks,
John Lydon,
Quadrant,
The Victims,
June Days,
Eric Dolphy,
Qualms,
This Heat,
Scrapy,
Absolute Body Control,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rufus Thomas,
Animal Collective,
Prince Buster,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.