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 Lagos.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Traffic Nightmare,
Johnny Clarke,
Jimmy McGriff,
Deepchord,
This Heat,
Connie Case,
Banda Bassotti,
The Move,
The Residents,
The Gladiators,
Marc Almond,
Boredoms,
Lyres,
Matthew Halsall,
Lightning Bolt,
Yazoo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Anthony Braxton,
The Associates,
MC5,
the Bar-Kays,
Black Pus,
Jeru the Damaja,
E-Dancer,
The Music Machine,
Ludus,
DNA,
Warsaw,
Little Man,
Chrome,
Surgeon,
The Monochrome Set,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eddi Front,
Amazonics,
Aloha Tigers,
The Five Americans,
Slick Rick,
Eric Copeland,
Dead Boys,
The Doors,
Index,
F. McDonald,
The Moody Blues,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Raincoats,
Flash Fearless,
June Days,
Lucky Dragons,
Alton Ellis,
Harry Pussy,
AZ,
Rod Modell,
Sex Pistols,
FM Einheit,
Charles Mingus,
Leonard Cohen,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Gap Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nirvana,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.