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 Nepal and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Spoonie Gee to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Tim Buckley,
Shuggie Otis,
Siglo XX,
Popol Vuh,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cymande,
Whodini,
The Smoke,
The Busters,
Anthony Braxton,
Morten Harket,
Nik Kershaw,
The Dead C,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Gun Club,
Patti Smith,
Pulsallama,
Franke,
Rosa Yemen,
Youth Brigade,
Tom Boy,
Absolute Body Control,
Grauzone,
Schoolly D,
Fad Gadget,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lalann,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Standells,
kango's stein massive,
Girls At Our Best!,
Aaron Thompson,
Tres Demented,
The Angels of Light,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Slackers,
Malaria!,
Shoche,
David McCallum,
The Zeros,
Josef K,
cv313,
Reagan Youth,
Blancmange,
Al Stewart,
Warsaw,
Vladislav Delay,
Mad Mike,
Connie Case,
Reuben Wilson,
Liliput,
Eve St. Jones,
Steve Hackett,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kaleidoscope,
Davy DMX,
Duran Duran,
Matthew Halsall,
The Monks,
New York Dolls,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.