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 Vietnam and from Cairo.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Nation of Ulysses to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Ken Boothe,
Sandy B,
The Kinks,
Eden Ahbez,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Heaven 17,
Ponytail,
Section 25,
Banda Bassotti,
Andrew Hill,
Eric Copeland,
Guru Guru,
John Holt,
Sound Behaviour,
Excepter,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Von Mondo,
Soul Sonic Force,
Hasil Adkins,
Spoonie Gee,
Thee Headcoats,
The Dirtbombs,
Absolute Body Control,
the Germs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tubeway Army,
Nick Fraelich,
Wasted Youth,
Scan 7,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Stiv Bators,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Birthday Party,
Radiohead,
Judy Mowatt,
John Lydon,
Das Ding,
Al Stewart,
PIL,
Swell Maps,
Gastr Del Sol,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ronan,
World's Most,
Byron Stingily,
Bill Wells,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Circle Jerks,
Morten Harket,
The Trojans,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Mojo Men,
Loose Ends,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Spandau Ballet,
Brass Construction,
Bill Near,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lower 48,
The Associates, The Associates, The Associates, The Associates.
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.