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 Samoa and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Holger Czukay 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 The Shadows of Knight to the crunk 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
The Flesh Eaters,
Yusef Lateef,
Flamin' Groovies,
Graham Central Station,
Scrapy,
The Martian,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Icehouse,
Marine Girls,
The Black Dice,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Suicide,
R.M.O.,
Ossler,
Tres Demented,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Electric Prunes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gang of Four,
Bauhaus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Amon Düül II,
Cymande,
Porter Ricks,
Ronnie Foster,
Royal Trux,
Babytalk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Con Funk Shun,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Duran Duran,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
EPMD,
Erykah Badu,
Amazonics,
Eddi Front,
Jeff Lynne,
Albert Ayler,
Interpol,
Neil Young,
Roger Hodgson,
Camberwell Now,
Arab on Radar,
The Evens,
Skaos,
Josef K,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Godley & Creme,
John Coltrane,
Dark Day,
Quando Quango,
Gong,
Sarah Menescal,
The Alarm Clocks,
Matthew Bourne,
Tim Buckley,
Lalo Schifrin,
Massinfluence,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.