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 Antigua 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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 X-101 to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delta 5,
Skaos,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Birthday Party,
The Skatalites,
Wire,
Organ,
The Selecter,
Quadrant,
Con Funk Shun,
Minor Threat,
Ultra Naté,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nas,
Albert Ayler,
Warsaw,
Bob Dylan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fat Boys,
Thee Headcoats,
a-ha,
Adolescents,
The Barracudas,
Visage,
Ice-T,
New Order,
David Bowie,
The J.B.'s,
Leonard Cohen,
Ohio Players,
Jesper Dahlback,
Thompson Twins,
DNA,
Joe Finger,
Joyce Sims,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
China Crisis,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mr. Review,
Blancmange,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Urselle,
Gang Gang Dance,
Alison Limerick,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Basic Channel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rekid,
The Fire Engines,
Godley & Creme,
Harry Pussy,
Darondo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Liliput,
Rotary Connection,
Dead Boys,
The Moody Blues,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.