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 Botswana and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba 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 Crime to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lalann. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lee Hazlewood,
The Standells,
ABC,
Susan Cadogan,
Sex Pistols,
The Saints,
Jeru the Damaja,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ronan,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Human League,
Crispian St. Peters,
Half Japanese,
Silicon Teens,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pierre Henry,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jesper Dahlback,
Khruangbin,
Nirvana,
Skarface,
The Raincoats,
Crash Course in Science,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gong,
Livin' Joy,
Barbara Tucker,
Sun Ra,
Scratch Acid,
The Dead C,
Index,
The Cramps,
Gerry Rafferty,
Glenn Branca,
Eurythmics,
kango's stein massive,
Piero Umiliani,
X-Ray Spex,
Cymande,
Subhumans,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobby Womack,
The Cowsills,
Mark Hollis,
Tears for Fears,
R.M.O.,
Bauhaus,
Moss Icon,
OOIOO,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
ABBA,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Grey Daturas,
Patti Smith,
Mary Jane Girls,
Depeche Mode,
X-101,
Eric Copeland,
Bobby Sherman,
Dave Gahan,
Colin Newman,
Eden Ahbez,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.