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 United Kingdom and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Ronnie Foster to the grime 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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Alice Coltrane,
Young Marble Giants,
The Durutti Column,
Henry Cow,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Audionom,
Tim Buckley,
Joey Negro,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Walker Brothers,
The Fuzztones,
Scrapy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rapeman,
Tears for Fears,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Man Parrish,
The Star Department,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cluster,
The Mummies,
Intrusion,
Lyres,
Ohio Players,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bill Wells,
48th St. Collective,
Scratch Acid,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Shoche,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Easy Going,
the Association,
The Smiths,
Royal Trux,
Surgeon,
Harry Pussy,
Babytalk,
Fatback Band,
Guru Guru,
Gong,
Bad Manners,
Barbara Tucker,
Niagra,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Modern Lovers,
The Vogues,
Thompson Twins,
Index,
Buzzcocks,
Rekid,
Robert Görl,
Eve St. Jones,
Barclay James Harvest,
AZ,
The Tremeloes,
LL Cool J,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane.
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.