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 Mongolia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Slackers to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
PIL,
Goldenarms,
The Move,
Black Bananas,
Suicide,
Roxette,
Pole,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cal Tjader,
The Misunderstood,
Fear,
Eve St. Jones,
Minutemen,
Brothers Johnson,
The Zeros,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Pretty Things,
The Associates,
Scan 7,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Buzzcocks,
Cheater Slicks,
ABBA,
Scott Walker,
Sexual Harrassment,
Echospace,
Susan Cadogan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Magazine,
Fugazi,
Sex Pistols,
Barrington Levy,
Gang Starr,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
London Community Gospel Choir,
10cc,
the Association,
Ornette Coleman,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Moody Blues,
Sight & Sound,
Scion,
Bronski Beat,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Accadde A,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lakeside,
Maleditus Sound,
the Human League,
Tres Demented,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Popol Vuh,
The Searchers,
MDC,
the Normal,
Donald Byrd,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.