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 Afghanistan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Pere Ubu to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Slits,
cv313,
The United States of America,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Agent Orange,
Brand Nubian,
Easy Going,
Howard Jones,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Little Man,
Kevin Saunderson,
La Düsseldorf,
T. Rex,
The Barracudas,
The Blackbyrds,
Eddi Front,
Gang Gang Dance,
Todd Rundgren,
Symarip,
Joy Division,
Agitation Free,
The Misunderstood,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Severed Heads,
Japan,
Aaron Thompson,
Kayak,
Oblivians,
Mandrill,
ABC,
Lungfish,
Index,
The Happenings,
D'Angelo,
Subhumans,
Cal Tjader,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ludus,
Ossler,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Yusef Lateef,
Cymande,
Hashim,
Sandy B,
Slave,
Bill Wells,
The Slits,
Half Japanese,
Arab on Radar,
Simply Red,
DNA,
Newcleus,
Gang Green,
DJ Sneak,
Blancmange,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Colin Newman,
Mr. Review,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.