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 Indonesia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Depeche Mode to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
John Coltrane,
New York Dolls,
the Normal,
Joey Negro,
Ponytail,
Eve St. Jones,
Frankie Knuckles,
Vladislav Delay,
Slick Rick,
Rotary Connection,
Marmalade,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Electric Prunes,
Magazine,
June Days,
The Sound,
Au Pairs,
Laurel Aitken,
Mary Jane Girls,
Joe Finger,
The Cure,
Erasure,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Franke,
Nico,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
UT,
Inner City,
Flamin' Groovies,
DJ Sneak,
The Knickerbockers,
Panda Bear,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Maleditus Sound,
Rod Modell,
Organ,
PIL,
Aswad,
Vainqueur,
Cymande,
Fad Gadget,
Black Pus,
The Neon Judgement,
Pet Shop Boys,
F. McDonald,
Visage,
Soft Cell,
Alice Coltrane,
The Last Poets,
John Cale,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Remains,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Association,
Barclay James Harvest,
Average White Band,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.