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 Nicaragua and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 snare 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 Black Pus to the crunk 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bad Manners,
Thee Headcoats,
New York Dolls,
Cymande,
Steve Hackett,
Stiv Bators,
The Fugs,
Underground Resistance,
Henry Cow,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Cosmic Jokers,
PIL,
The Moody Blues,
the Human League,
Bobby Womack,
Deakin,
Ituana,
The Mummies,
Gang Green,
Amon Düül,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ken Boothe,
Curtis Mayfield,
Howard Jones,
Gabor Szabo,
Jeff Lynne,
Eric Dolphy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sparks,
DJ Style,
MDC,
Fat Boys,
Radiohead,
Maleditus Sound,
Reuben Wilson,
Second Layer,
Delta 5,
Mark Hollis,
Joyce Sims,
Dawn Penn,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Vogues,
Mad Mike,
The Slackers,
Sonic Youth,
Hasil Adkins,
Fear,
Stockholm Monsters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sugar Minott,
Barrington Levy,
Infiniti,
Youth Brigade,
Rites of Spring,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Adolescents,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.