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 Costa Rica and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Five Americans to the grime 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Intrusion,
Qualms,
Gichy Dan,
Sparks,
Thompson Twins,
Roxette,
Von Mondo,
This Heat,
John Coltrane,
Essential Logic,
The Grass Roots,
Joensuu 1685,
Charles Mingus,
Kenny Larkin,
Faraquet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Human League,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
FM Einheit,
Kurtis Blow,
The Fugs,
Bobby Womack,
X-101,
Oneida,
Grauzone,
Camouflage,
Angry Samoans,
Roger Hodgson,
Colin Newman,
Desert Stars,
The Cramps,
James White and The Blacks,
Unrelated Segments,
Icehouse,
Fad Gadget,
Technova,
Suburban Knight,
X-Ray Spex,
Morten Harket,
Minnie Riperton,
John Cale,
Ultravox,
Zero Boys,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Invisible,
Amon Düül II,
Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Barry Ungar,
The Flesh Eaters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Grey Daturas,
Porter Ricks,
The Last Poets,
Peter & Gordon,
E-Dancer,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hardrive,
Television,
Ituana,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.