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 Ghana and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Kerrie Biddell to the grunge 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Rod Modell,
David Bowie,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Crooked Eye,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
In Retrospect,
Mandrill,
Mantronix,
Scrapy,
Groovy Waters,
OOIOO,
Saccharine Trust,
The Knickerbockers,
Brand Nubian,
Sixth Finger,
Warren Ellis,
Grauzone,
Eric B and Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
The Fugs,
Hasil Adkins,
Yusef Lateef,
Motorama,
Donny Hathaway,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Terry Callier,
Magma,
Massinfluence,
Pagans,
Gichy Dan,
Scientists,
The Kinks,
Mark Hollis,
the Association,
The Smiths,
Lungfish,
The Pretty Things,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Simply Red,
Harry Pussy,
Aaron Thompson,
Sparks,
Slave,
Matthew Bourne,
Interpol,
Eddi Front,
John Holt,
Aloha Tigers,
Wasted Youth,
Ice-T,
Quando Quango,
Inner City,
Bronski Beat,
KRS-One,
The J.B.'s,
Derrick Morgan,
Neu!,
The Tremeloes,
Tomorrow,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.