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 Romania and from Copenhagen.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 linndrum 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 Electric Prunes to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
The Selecter,
Franke,
Barbara Tucker,
Wire,
Bobby Byrd,
Brass Construction,
Althea and Donna,
Isaac Hayes,
The Litter,
Piero Umiliani,
Soft Cell,
Pierre Henry,
Soul II Soul,
D'Angelo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Skriet,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Alice Coltrane,
Tubeway Army,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Smiths,
Loose Ends,
Rod Modell,
Little Man,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pharoah Sanders,
Icehouse,
Hot Snakes,
Fela Kuti,
Wings,
Crash Course in Science,
Sexual Harrassment,
8 Eyed Spy,
H. Thieme,
Fad Gadget,
London Community Gospel Choir,
New Order,
Scion,
The Happenings,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mo-Dettes,
Sex Pistols,
the Association,
Ronan,
Organ,
Royal Trux,
David Bowie,
Blancmange,
Public Image Ltd.,
Depeche Mode,
Talk Talk,
Urselle,
Delta 5,
Tim Buckley,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Altered Images,
June of 44,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.