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 Djibouti and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pierre Henry to the punk 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Soul Sonic Force,
Organ,
T. Rex,
Absolute Body Control,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Black Flag,
Stiv Bators,
Symarip,
Rapeman,
Warsaw,
Monolake,
The Shadows of Knight,
Parry Music,
Lindisfarne,
the Human League,
The Walker Brothers,
Graham Central Station,
X-102,
Aloha Tigers,
Sound Behaviour,
The Human League,
The Cowsills,
The Grass Roots,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eddi Front,
Nik Kershaw,
Harry Pussy,
Arcadia,
The Divine Comedy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tears for Fears,
China Crisis,
Quantec,
Index,
Yusef Lateef,
48th St. Collective,
John Lydon,
Cal Tjader,
Erykah Badu,
Michelle Simonal,
Althea and Donna,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Yaz,
Swell Maps,
Brick,
The Monochrome Set,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Fania All-Stars,
Shoche,
The Gun Club,
The Offenders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fela Kuti,
Aswad,
Fad Gadget,
The Sound,
Kerri Chandler,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.