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 Uzbekistan and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Peter and Kerry to the punk 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kenny Larkin 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Electric Prunes,
Brick,
Stiv Bators,
Blossom Toes,
Schoolly D,
The Techniques,
Gang of Four,
Shoche,
Rufus Thomas,
The Doobie Brothers,
Don Cherry,
Lucky Dragons,
Tomorrow,
Donny Hathaway,
Dawn Penn,
Easy Going,
Sugar Minott,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
T.S.O.L.,
Kas Product,
Lungfish,
Mr. Review,
Visage,
Model 500,
The Toasters,
the Normal,
Barbara Tucker,
Sister Nancy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
Cybotron,
The Move,
Alphaville,
Bobby Womack,
Mad Mike,
Traffic Nightmare,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Byron Stingily,
The New Christs,
Wings,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pantaleimon,
The Standells,
Donald Byrd,
Carl Craig,
Bad Manners,
Television,
Liliput,
Harpers Bizarre,
New Age Steppers,
June Days,
Robert Wyatt,
Eddi Front,
Metal Thangz,
Slave,
Jandek,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Robert Görl,
Nick Fraelich,
Zero Boys,
Pierre Henry,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.