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 Tunisia and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Portland.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Tears for Fears to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Gong,
This Heat,
Siglo XX,
Gang of Four,
Lalo Schifrin,
Grandmaster Flash,
Drive Like Jehu,
Black Pus,
Index,
X-101,
The Gun Club,
Godley & Creme,
Funkadelic,
X-Ray Spex,
Eden Ahbez,
Das Ding,
Jerry's Kids,
Minor Threat,
Reuben Wilson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Morten Harket,
Graham Central Station,
China Crisis,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pulsallama,
Tomorrow,
Panda Bear,
Camouflage,
The Standells,
The Blues Magoos,
Stockholm Monsters,
Magazine,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Robert Wyatt,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lyres,
Arab on Radar,
Negative Approach,
Colin Newman,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Monks,
David McCallum,
Metal Thangz,
Heaven 17,
Warsaw,
Neil Young,
Joensuu 1685,
Marc Almond,
Visage,
the Association,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Modern Lovers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gastr Del Sol,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soft Cell,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Derrick May,
the Slits,
Mr. Review,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.