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 Kenya and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 808 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 Neon Judgement to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Rekid,
Skarface,
John Holt,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Babytalk,
Ice-T,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Yellowson,
The Gories,
Flipper,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
X-102,
Q65,
The Angels of Light,
MDC,
Al Stewart,
Au Pairs,
In Retrospect,
Robert Wyatt,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Japan,
Peter & Gordon,
Bobby Womack,
Piero Umiliani,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Gladiators,
Mo-Dettes,
Saccharine Trust,
Soft Cell,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
D'Angelo,
Interpol,
Qualms,
AZ,
Brothers Johnson,
Roy Ayers,
Judy Mowatt,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Toni Rubio,
Boz Scaggs,
Reagan Youth,
Dennis Brown,
Sugar Minott,
Scientists,
Slave,
Slick Rick,
Inner City,
Minny Pops,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Make Up,
Pulsallama,
The Fire Engines,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Slits,
The Motions,
Shoche,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ten City,
Lalann,
The Star Department,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.