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 Haiti and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Dual Sessions to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
Amazonics,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lindisfarne,
Jerry's Kids,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
DNA,
The Blackbyrds,
Deepchord,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bill Near,
Howard Jones,
The Cure,
Fatback Band,
Gichy Dan,
the Soft Cell,
The Skatalites,
Babytalk,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mars,
UT,
Banda Bassotti,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mo-Dettes,
Bootsy Collins,
Rakim,
Lalo Schifrin,
Radio Birdman,
Skriet,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Birthday Party,
Barbara Tucker,
Altered Images,
Eve St. Jones,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Gladiators,
Ossler,
Duran Duran,
New Age Steppers,
the Slits,
Radiohead,
Organ,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nico,
Lungfish,
Derrick May,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Pus,
Index,
Reagan Youth,
John Foxx,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
X-Ray Spex,
Rekid,
Dual Sessions,
Soulsonic Force,
Aloha Tigers,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.