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 Mauritius and from Spokane.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Piero Umiliani to the grime 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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Loose Ends,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jesper Dahlback,
Adolescents,
Con Funk Shun,
Henry Cow,
the Association,
David Axelrod,
the Bar-Kays,
Fifty Foot Hose,
KRS-One,
The Black Dice,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mo-Dettes,
Warren Ellis,
Cybotron,
Stereo Dub,
In Retrospect,
This Heat,
MDC,
Nirvana,
Max Romeo,
Crispian St. Peters,
June Days,
Harpers Bizarre,
Zapp,
Pussy Galore,
Clear Light,
Nation of Ulysses,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Evens,
Ituana,
Ice-T,
8 Eyed Spy,
Amon Düül,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sun City Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
Scrapy,
Marmalade,
Joensuu 1685,
Sällskapet,
Pulsallama,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Spoonie Gee,
Mark Hollis,
Kaleidoscope,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Chrome,
JFA,
The Grass Roots,
Saccharine Trust,
Severed Heads,
Spandau Ballet,
X-Ray Spex,
Interpol,
Supertramp,
Talk Talk,
Graham Central Station,
Amon Düül II,
Zero Boys,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.