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 Germany and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Hashim to the funk 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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Boz Scaggs,
Chrome,
Terrestrial Tones,
Harmonia,
DJ Sneak,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Neil Young,
Duran Duran,
Audionom,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
New York Dolls,
Black Moon,
Boredoms,
Qualms,
Hasil Adkins,
The Wake,
Rakim,
Tubeway Army,
Brand Nubian,
F. McDonald,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Slackers,
Ohio Players,
Throbbing Gristle,
Aloha Tigers,
Soulsonic Force,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Soft Cell,
China Crisis,
The Gun Club,
Tomorrow,
Sex Pistols,
The Buckinghams,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
PIL,
Los Fastidios,
Moebius,
Eric Copeland,
Slave,
Grauzone,
Television,
The Seeds,
Brick,
Don Cherry,
Stetsasonic,
Ituana,
Television Personalities,
The Beau Brummels,
DJ Style,
Bootsy Collins,
Toni Rubio,
Jacques Brel,
Niagra,
Infiniti,
Unwound,
Depeche Mode,
Tim Buckley,
T. Rex,
Al Stewart,
Erasure,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.