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 Gabon and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 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 Von Mondo to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Rod Modell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jerry's Kids,
Camouflage,
The Star Department,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lou Reed,
Kas Product,
Erykah Badu,
48th St. Collective,
The Associates,
The Stooges,
Procol Harum,
Niagra,
Bronski Beat,
Franke,
Roxette,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wolf Eyes,
U.S. Maple,
Kayak,
Electric Prunes,
Nick Fraelich,
Eve St. Jones,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Litter,
The Names,
The Gladiators,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bang On A Can,
Rapeman,
the Slits,
Ludus,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sonic Youth,
The Knickerbockers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
K-Klass,
Scott Walker,
Colin Newman,
Janne Schatter,
Soulsonic Force,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Motions,
The Victims,
Ash Ra Tempel,
H. Thieme,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Cecil Taylor,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Golliwogs,
Rotary Connection,
Gang Gang Dance,
Guru Guru,
Sällskapet,
Agent Orange,
The Misunderstood,
The Tremeloes,
R.M.O.,
The Birthday Party,
Rites of Spring,
Black Flag,
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.