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 Paraguay and from Tehran.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gregory Isaacs to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
John Lydon,
A Certain Ratio,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Skatalites,
Donald Byrd,
Mantronix,
Infiniti,
X-Ray Spex,
Judy Mowatt,
Davy DMX,
U.S. Maple,
La Düsseldorf,
ABC,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Sound,
The Five Americans,
Sällskapet,
Von Mondo,
Reuben Wilson,
Stetsasonic,
Maleditus Sound,
New Order,
Traffic Nightmare,
Darondo,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang Green,
MDC,
Michelle Simonal,
The Zeros,
The Fuzztones,
Black Bananas,
Juan Atkins,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Barracudas,
Eurythmics,
Curtis Mayfield,
Amon Düül II,
Oneida,
David Bowie,
Model 500,
Alice Coltrane,
Harry Pussy,
Heaven 17,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gong,
Quando Quango,
The Saints,
Smog,
Andrew Hill,
Toni Rubio,
Faraquet,
The Smoke,
Jandek,
The Neon Judgement,
Little Man,
Maurizio,
The Velvet Underground,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scratch Acid,
the Swans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.