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 Kuwait and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Godley & Creme to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Deadbeat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Aaron Thompson,
Gastr Del Sol,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Gap Band,
Shoche,
Janne Schatter,
Minutemen,
London Community Gospel Choir,
X-Ray Spex,
New York Dolls,
The Slackers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Marc Almond,
These Immortal Souls,
Main Source,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Coltrane,
Ponytail,
KRS-One,
Wally Richardson,
Malaria!,
The Offenders,
Sparks,
Eurythmics,
Lakeside,
Ludus,
Wasted Youth,
The Victims,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Clear Light,
Godley & Creme,
Sight & Sound,
Andrew Hill,
Circle Jerks,
Black Bananas,
Yusef Lateef,
Erasure,
Gang Starr,
Harry Pussy,
The Smoke,
Piero Umiliani,
Fluxion,
B.T. Express,
Banda Bassotti,
Rapeman,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Cowsills,
Model 500,
the Slits,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cluster,
Bush Tetras,
Ultra Naté,
Donald Byrd,
Silicon Teens,
Soft Machine,
Tom Boy,
The Fall,
Amazonics,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.