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 Belize and from Johannesburg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum 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 Talk Talk to the funk 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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall 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?
Wasted Youth,
The Smiths,
Curtis Mayfield,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Misunderstood,
The Cowsills,
UT,
The Blackbyrds,
The Five Americans,
The Fire Engines,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Khruangbin,
the Soft Cell,
The Black Dice,
Nico,
Radiopuhelimet,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sixth Finger,
The Toasters,
Ronnie Foster,
Niagra,
Aural Exciters,
Gang Green,
Newcleus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rosa Yemen,
Judy Mowatt,
The Move,
Pere Ubu,
Glenn Branca,
Arthur Verocai,
Sarah Menescal,
Bush Tetras,
Althea and Donna,
Eric Dolphy,
48th St. Collective,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Robert Hood,
Deakin,
Bang On A Can,
The J.B.'s,
Grey Daturas,
MDC,
Jeff Lynne,
The Kinks,
Idris Muhammad,
Absolute Body Control,
Heaven 17,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Hashim,
Fear,
Fatback Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Mummies,
Stereo Dub,
The Residents,
The Selecter,
Scan 7,
Sun Ra,
Depeche Mode,
Fat Boys,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.