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 Marshall Islands and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 Bologna and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar 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 Eric Copeland to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Real Kids,
Albert Ayler,
The New Christs,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Stooges,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Gun Club,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sixth Finger,
T. Rex,
The Dirtbombs,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Monochrome Set,
Archie Shepp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deakin,
Interpol,
In Retrospect,
EPMD,
Lucky Dragons,
Hardrive,
Organ,
Cal Tjader,
Nirvana,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sight & Sound,
The Music Machine,
The Dead C,
Mandrill,
Patti Smith,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rod Modell,
Tres Demented,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Happenings,
E-Dancer,
Joey Negro,
Fugazi,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
New York Dolls,
Spoonie Gee,
Grandmaster Flash,
Derrick Morgan,
James White and The Blacks,
Outsiders,
Flipper,
Angry Samoans,
Supertramp,
Japan,
Iggy Pop,
MDC,
Yazoo,
Lower 48,
Nick Fraelich,
D'Angelo,
June of 44,
Dawn Penn,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.