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 Morocco 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Idris Muhammad to the crunk 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Animal Collective,
Crime,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Hot Snakes,
Shuggie Otis,
Pere Ubu,
Ultra Naté,
The Skatalites,
Sarah Menescal,
Depeche Mode,
Bang On A Can,
Sparks,
The Beau Brummels,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Metal Thangz,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wire,
Radio Birdman,
Desert Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
Deepchord,
Gichy Dan,
Stiv Bators,
Hashim,
Aural Exciters,
The Dead C,
The Durutti Column,
Agitation Free,
Ice-T,
June of 44,
Cal Tjader,
Stereo Dub,
Ituana,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bill Wells,
Prince Buster,
Judy Mowatt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Stockholm Monsters,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bauhaus,
Nik Kershaw,
Visage,
Archie Shepp,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camberwell Now,
the Germs,
Alison Limerick,
Juan Atkins,
Bluetip,
China Crisis,
The Birthday Party,
Gang Gang Dance,
Skaos,
David Bowie,
Moebius,
Mr. Review,
The Litter,
The Fall,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.