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 Grenada and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 harpsichord 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 Loose Ends to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Derrick May,
Jandek,
Fela Kuti,
The Real Kids,
Gregory Isaacs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joyce Sims,
The Raincoats,
Joe Finger,
H. Thieme,
Yusef Lateef,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soul II Soul,
Chris & Cosey,
Girls At Our Best!,
Dark Day,
The Searchers,
Donny Hathaway,
Desert Stars,
John Coltrane,
Symarip,
Black Sheep,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Blues Magoos,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Donald Byrd,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rosa Yemen,
D'Angelo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sparks,
Susan Cadogan,
Graham Central Station,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Banda Bassotti,
Matthew Halsall,
Eric B and Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Human League,
David Bowie,
Thee Headcoats,
Jacques Brel,
Index,
Neil Young,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Monks,
Ken Boothe,
The Alarm Clocks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bootsy Collins,
Fad Gadget,
Masters at Work,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sällskapet,
The Slackers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Vainqueur,
Flamin' Groovies,
June Days,
Chrome,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.