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 States and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Marc Almond to the techno 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 Davy DMX. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Terry Callier,
Radio Birdman,
Donald Byrd,
The Neon Judgement,
X-101,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stockholm Monsters,
Yaz,
Rosa Yemen,
The Star Department,
The Standells,
Urselle,
Tommy Roe,
The Index,
Ultra Naté,
Godley & Creme,
Shuggie Otis,
Can,
The Mummies,
Moss Icon,
Eden Ahbez,
Schoolly D,
Mo-Dettes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Joe Smooth,
UT,
These Immortal Souls,
The Human League,
Swans,
Scrapy,
The Gladiators,
Television Personalities,
Jacob Miller,
Spoonie Gee,
Lower 48,
Dave Gahan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Andrew Hill,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Dual Sessions,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cramps,
Suburban Knight,
CMW,
Connie Case,
The Misunderstood,
Johnny Osbourne,
Livin' Joy,
This Heat,
Man Parrish,
Lyres,
Judy Mowatt,
Suicide,
Reuben Wilson,
Audionom,
Parry Music,
Minor Threat,
Neil Young,
Country Teasers,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.