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 Serbia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Steve Hackett to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson 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 disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Oblivians,
Yazoo,
The American Breed,
Motorama,
Urselle,
Monks,
The Smiths,
Rhythm & Sound,
Don Cherry,
Eric Dolphy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gabor Szabo,
Underground Resistance,
Black Sheep,
Prince Buster,
Anthony Braxton,
The Vogues,
Newcleus,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Model 500,
Icehouse,
T.S.O.L.,
Siglo XX,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Barracudas,
John Cale,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
James White and The Blacks,
Chris & Cosey,
Danielle Patucci,
Tom Boy,
The Saints,
Severed Heads,
Fela Kuti,
Rosa Yemen,
Gil Scott Heron,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tubeway Army,
Marcia Griffiths,
David Axelrod,
Technova,
Unwound,
Niagra,
Jawbox,
Neu!,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Joy Division,
Interpol,
Soul II Soul,
Harry Pussy,
A Certain Ratio,
Suburban Knight,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eve St. Jones,
Man Parrish,
Roger Hodgson,
Young Marble Giants,
Basic Channel,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.