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 South Africa and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Wire to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Symarip,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ten City,
The Slits,
Camberwell Now,
Buzzcocks,
Barrington Levy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pagans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Morten Harket,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Holt,
Matthew Bourne,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Desert Stars,
Sister Nancy,
Cybotron,
Los Fastidios,
The Music Machine,
Monks,
The Dirtbombs,
Robert Wyatt,
Country Teasers,
Sandy B,
Depeche Mode,
Glenn Branca,
Scott Walker,
Yaz,
Adolescents,
Faust,
Lou Christie,
Alice Coltrane,
Groovy Waters,
Jimmy McGriff,
Slave,
Joe Smooth,
Tubeway Army,
The Five Americans,
Tears for Fears,
The Real Kids,
Das Ding,
Idris Muhammad,
Young Marble Giants,
ABBA,
Derrick Morgan,
Marine Girls,
Mr. Review,
The Selecter,
Silicon Teens,
Judy Mowatt,
Shoche,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Halsall,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Liliput,
Accadde A,
The Offenders,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.