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 Iceland and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 The Mummies to the grime 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
Rapeman,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cybotron,
Bang On A Can,
Negative Approach,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cheater Slicks,
Au Pairs,
Eden Ahbez,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Silicon Teens,
Unrelated Segments,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hashim,
ABBA,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cameo,
Make Up,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Electric Light Orchestra,
DJ Style,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Pop Group,
Bootsy Collins,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Names,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kayak,
Pole,
Young Marble Giants,
Severed Heads,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Supertramp,
Model 500,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Piero Umiliani,
Grauzone,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ronan,
The Trojans,
World's Most,
The Dead C,
Peter & Gordon,
Freddie Wadling,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Womack,
KRS-One,
The Gun Club,
Blossom Toes,
Avey Tare,
Carl Craig,
Gregory Isaacs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
U.S. Maple,
Archie Shepp,
The Detroit Cobras,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sugar Minott,
Lungfish,
The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five.
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.