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 Cameroon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Monks to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The New Christs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Public Enemy,
Babytalk,
Man Parrish,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Spandau Ballet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sam Rivers,
The Divine Comedy,
A Certain Ratio,
Harry Pussy,
Eli Mardock,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Neon Judgement,
Das Ding,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Thompson Twins,
The Searchers,
The Names,
The Pop Group,
Hardrive,
Excepter,
The Star Department,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Malaria!,
KRS-One,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Todd Rundgren,
The Smoke,
The Fugs,
In Retrospect,
Freddie Wadling,
Dead Boys,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Residents,
the Bar-Kays,
Zapp,
New Age Steppers,
Skriet,
Crispian St. Peters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eden Ahbez,
Depeche Mode,
Gabor Szabo,
Au Pairs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Thee Headcoats,
The Sonics,
Groovy Waters,
These Immortal Souls,
Dennis Brown,
Electric Prunes,
Anthony Braxton,
The Selecter,
Cal Tjader,
Angry Samoans,
Scientists,
Cameo,
John Cale,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.