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 Philippines and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Janne Schatter to the disco 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MC5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Frankie Knuckles,
Zero Boys,
Neu!,
Black Pus,
Pere Ubu,
Bush Tetras,
Jerry's Kids,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Happenings,
Flash Fearless,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
Scientists,
Robert Hood,
Funky Four + One,
UT,
Sonic Youth,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bobby Byrd,
Sister Nancy,
John Holt,
Gabor Szabo,
Nik Kershaw,
Joe Finger,
ABBA,
Eden Ahbez,
Anakelly,
Eurythmics,
The Slackers,
Lindisfarne,
Mandrill,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lower 48,
Kenny Larkin,
The Skatalites,
Deepchord,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kas Product,
The Human League,
The Dead C,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Stockholm Monsters,
Iggy Pop,
Jeff Mills,
Charles Mingus,
Pulsallama,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Susan Cadogan,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Grass Roots,
Alice Coltrane,
Bootsy Collins,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Marine Girls,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.