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 Nicaragua and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Letta Mbulu to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
The Fugs,
Monks,
The Motions,
Rekid,
Crispy Ambulance,
Glenn Branca,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eden Ahbez,
Barbara Tucker,
Steve Hackett,
Pole,
One Last Wish,
Bluetip,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Matthew Halsall,
Henry Cow,
Arcadia,
Surgeon,
Aaron Thompson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Yazoo,
Radiohead,
The Fire Engines,
Erasure,
Juan Atkins,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Amon Düül,
Blake Baxter,
Altered Images,
Deepchord,
Dead Boys,
Slave,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kas Product,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lakeside,
Nation of Ulysses,
Roxy Music,
The Dead C,
Joe Smooth,
Whodini,
The Barracudas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Popol Vuh,
The Happenings,
Nick Fraelich,
Monolake,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Patti Smith,
the Slits,
Marshall Jefferson,
Das Ding,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Newcleus,
Minor Threat,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Knickerbockers,
Sällskapet,
Anakelly,
The Last Poets,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.