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 Swaziland and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 güiro 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 Scott Walker to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
The Alarm Clocks,
Amazonics,
Bluetip,
James White and The Blacks,
Reuben Wilson,
Harry Pussy,
Derrick Morgan,
Althea and Donna,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
kango's stein massive,
Kayak,
Lindisfarne,
the Slits,
Cymande,
Alison Limerick,
The Gories,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Music Machine,
Hot Snakes,
The Litter,
Big Daddy Kane,
Index,
Brand Nubian,
Yaz,
Eve St. Jones,
The Mummies,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Electric Prunes,
Malaria!,
Rekid,
Steve Hackett,
Scott Walker,
Young Marble Giants,
Fluxion,
Magazine,
Magma,
Agitation Free,
June Days,
Cal Tjader,
Section 25,
X-102,
Jesper Dahlback,
Saccharine Trust,
Theoretical Girls,
Gang of Four,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Animal Collective,
Ralphi Rosario,
Camberwell Now,
Ludus,
Sound Behaviour,
The Mojo Men,
Can,
Deakin,
Unrelated Segments,
Tubeway Army,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.