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 Mexico and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 a-ha to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Sex Pistols,
Yaz,
The Names,
Henry Cow,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Tremeloes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
CMW,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Camberwell Now,
Desert Stars,
Brick,
Colin Newman,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kayak,
Con Funk Shun,
the Human League,
The Sound,
the Soft Cell,
Theoretical Girls,
Soul Sonic Force,
John Foxx,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Amon Düül,
Gerry Rafferty,
Vladislav Delay,
Sällskapet,
Yusef Lateef,
The Gories,
New Order,
KRS-One,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crooked Eye,
Sixth Finger,
Fad Gadget,
Terry Callier,
Wally Richardson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Moby Grape,
48th St. Collective,
Metal Thangz,
Schoolly D,
Swell Maps,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Section 25,
Minor Threat,
Howard Jones,
Eden Ahbez,
Rapeman,
Dead Boys,
U.S. Maple,
Maurizio,
Lindisfarne,
The United States of America,
Davy DMX,
Peter & Gordon,
OOIOO,
Letta Mbulu,
Michelle Simonal,
Scientists,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.