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 Somalia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Last Poets to the crunk 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti 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?
The Gladiators,
Barclay James Harvest,
Minnie Riperton,
K-Klass,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dual Sessions,
Moby Grape,
Yazoo,
Radio Birdman,
Mission of Burma,
Ohio Players,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Janne Schatter,
James White and The Blacks,
Schoolly D,
Half Japanese,
Cymande,
John Cale,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Monolake,
Danielle Patucci,
Animal Collective,
The Standells,
Second Layer,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Smiths,
The Associates,
Camouflage,
Mantronix,
Flash Fearless,
Hashim,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wasted Youth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rod Modell,
Pet Shop Boys,
Warren Ellis,
Infiniti,
Hasil Adkins,
Eurythmics,
the Soft Cell,
Essential Logic,
Heaven 17,
Chrome,
Shoche,
Soft Cell,
Sonic Youth,
Sam Rivers,
The Vogues,
ABBA,
Altered Images,
Graham Central Station,
the Fania All-Stars,
Blossom Toes,
Johnny Clarke,
Ice-T,
Quantec,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Angels of Light,
R.M.O.,
The United States of America,
Oneida,
The Pop Group,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.