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 Slovenia and from Stockholm.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Absolute Body Control to the electroclash 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
The Gladiators,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eurythmics,
China Crisis,
Mo-Dettes,
Suburban Knight,
Stereo Dub,
Visage,
Das Ding,
Sex Pistols,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Donald Byrd,
Mars,
Black Flag,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cybotron,
Bob Dylan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Camouflage,
Scion,
Easy Going,
The Associates,
Prince Buster,
Parry Music,
Dark Day,
Altered Images,
Trumans Water,
Make Up,
Can,
Crooked Eye,
Delta 5,
Depeche Mode,
The Doobie Brothers,
Anakelly,
Lungfish,
The Red Krayola,
Electric Prunes,
Judy Mowatt,
Lower 48,
Buzzcocks,
Rotary Connection,
X-101,
Adolescents,
The Cure,
Thompson Twins,
Pierre Henry,
Japan,
Glenn Branca,
Crash Course in Science,
Radio Birdman,
Junior Murvin,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mr. Review,
Siglo XX,
UT,
Amon Düül,
Gichy Dan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Johnny Osbourne,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.