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 Benin and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Cramps to the electroclash 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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Visage,
Smog,
The Gap Band,
Slave,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ten City,
Y Pants,
June Days,
Funkadelic,
The Happenings,
Lalann,
Tom Boy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Susan Cadogan,
Circle Jerks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Drive Like Jehu,
Khruangbin,
The Blues Magoos,
Cameo,
Fatback Band,
the Slits,
Altered Images,
Harry Pussy,
Chris & Cosey,
Franke,
Mandrill,
Motorama,
Adolescents,
DJ Style,
Andrew Hill,
Surgeon,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Coltrane,
Lungfish,
Mr. Review,
Hasil Adkins,
Don Cherry,
Flipper,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Vogues,
The Dirtbombs,
Procol Harum,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cluster,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pantaleimon,
Harmonia,
Pylon,
Bush Tetras,
Main Source,
kango's stein massive,
The Sound,
Oneida,
The Misunderstood,
In Retrospect,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.