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 Jamaica and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 K-Klass to the punk 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Sixth Finger,
Albert Ayler,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
EPMD,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Animal Collective,
Pantaleimon,
Nas,
H. Thieme,
Whodini,
Minnie Riperton,
Boz Scaggs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rakim,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Monochrome Set,
Skriet,
Brothers Johnson,
Electric Prunes,
Silicon Teens,
Second Layer,
Freddie Wadling,
Derrick May,
Cameo,
Wally Richardson,
ABC,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Don Cherry,
Harmonia,
Schoolly D,
Icehouse,
the Germs,
Alphaville,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Real Kids,
Amon Düül II,
Clear Light,
Eric Dolphy,
Pantytec,
Pagans,
Amon Düül,
Max Romeo,
The J.B.'s,
Ponytail,
Peter and Kerry,
Vainqueur,
Girls At Our Best!,
Porter Ricks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Barry Ungar,
Eric Copeland,
FM Einheit,
The Seeds,
Reagan Youth,
Ossler,
Khruangbin,
Sparks,
Das Ding,
Bobby Womack,
The Zeros,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.