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 Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 the Slits to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Lyres,
The Selecter,
Kurtis Blow,
Barclay James Harvest,
Brass Construction,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cluster,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joy Division,
Morten Harket,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marc Almond,
Robert Hood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
KRS-One,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eden Ahbez,
Public Enemy,
China Crisis,
Harmonia,
U.S. Maple,
Deadbeat,
Fatback Band,
Tom Boy,
Bang On A Can,
Joey Negro,
The Modern Lovers,
The Moleskins,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Surgeon,
The Offenders,
X-Ray Spex,
Judy Mowatt,
The Doors,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Searchers,
Can,
Lungfish,
The Move,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Crooked Eye,
Rufus Thomas,
Fat Boys,
Average White Band,
FM Einheit,
David McCallum,
Dual Sessions,
Zapp,
The Dead C,
Davy DMX,
Gerry Rafferty,
DJ Style,
Trumans Water,
Stereo Dub,
Freddie Wadling,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Soft Cell,
Skaos,
Alice Coltrane,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.