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 Andorra and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin 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 Banda Bassotti to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
Roxy Music,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Toasters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Crispian St. Peters,
Glenn Branca,
Blancmange,
Girls At Our Best!,
MC5,
Eden Ahbez,
Chris Corsano,
The Young Rascals,
The Martian,
Goldenarms,
The Searchers,
B.T. Express,
Dave Gahan,
Von Mondo,
Graham Central Station,
Section 25,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rapeman,
Avey Tare,
Terry Callier,
Siglo XX,
Agent Orange,
David Bowie,
cv313,
Gang Starr,
Loose Ends,
Isaac Hayes,
The Five Americans,
Andrew Hill,
Warsaw,
Subhumans,
Desert Stars,
Magma,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Harmonia,
Fela Kuti,
Kerri Chandler,
Supertramp,
The J.B.'s,
The Pretty Things,
Colin Newman,
Alison Limerick,
The Vogues,
Metal Thangz,
Mark Hollis,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ten City,
Swans,
Marcia Griffiths,
Little Man,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Qualms,
Masters at Work,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.