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 Czech Republic and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 rhodes 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 Electric Prunes to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Erasure,
the Normal,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Peter & Gordon,
The Durutti Column,
The Tremeloes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Smiths,
Gregory Isaacs,
Average White Band,
Gang Green,
Japan,
Dave Gahan,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Standells,
Leonard Cohen,
Kaleidoscope,
Little Man,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Crooked Eye,
Al Stewart,
Unwound,
Wally Richardson,
Unrelated Segments,
The Busters,
Inner City,
Reagan Youth,
Duran Duran,
Camouflage,
the Bar-Kays,
Scan 7,
E-Dancer,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Faust,
Scion,
B.T. Express,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scott Walker,
the Slits,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pussy Galore,
Ten City,
Au Pairs,
Harry Pussy,
The Smoke,
Cluster,
Eddi Front,
Slave,
Archie Shepp,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lebanon Hanover,
MDC,
The Birthday Party,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Womack,
Minutemen,
The Fall,
The United States of America,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.