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 Georgia and from Taipei.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Jacob Miller to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Sonics. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
The Blues Magoos,
The Gladiators,
Warsaw,
Todd Rundgren,
Popol Vuh,
This Heat,
Patti Smith,
June of 44,
John Lydon,
Wire,
World's Most,
the Soft Cell,
Marc Almond,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Fuzztones,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
ABC,
Amon Düül II,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Cluster,
Loose Ends,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Bourne,
Bill Wells,
Wally Richardson,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dawn Penn,
Infiniti,
Metal Thangz,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Goldenarms,
Glenn Branca,
Von Mondo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Swell Maps,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Shadows of Knight,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Scott Walker,
Tropical Tobacco,
Piero Umiliani,
The Cramps,
Icehouse,
Gil Scott Heron,
X-102,
Gang Green,
The Mummies,
Matthew Halsall,
Whodini,
the Germs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Derrick May,
Wings,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Arab on Radar,
Roy Ayers,
Minutemen,
The Names,
Aswad,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.