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 Monaco and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 sitar 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 The Gun Club to the punk 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Age Steppers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
The Names,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Surgeon,
Lungfish,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
One Last Wish,
Oblivians,
T. Rex,
Goldenarms,
PIL,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gories,
Silicon Teens,
Desert Stars,
David Bowie,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Electric Prunes,
The Searchers,
Sound Behaviour,
Sugar Minott,
Michelle Simonal,
Kurtis Blow,
Warsaw,
Sällskapet,
Flash Fearless,
The Victims,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Pretty Things,
Scrapy,
The Moleskins,
The Slackers,
the Slits,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tres Demented,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rakim,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Funkadelic,
Man Parrish,
Matthew Halsall,
Max Romeo,
CMW,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Drexciya,
Big Daddy Kane,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Misunderstood,
Skaos,
Interpol,
Traffic Nightmare,
Freddie Wadling,
Das Ding,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ludus,
Masters at Work,
The Moody Blues,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jacques Brel,
Magazine,
The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group.
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.