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 Tuvalu and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 X-101 to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
The Saints,
Gang Starr,
Monolake,
Ituana,
Camouflage,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bootsy Collins,
Lyres,
Quando Quango,
Pantytec,
Slave,
Donald Byrd,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Archie Shepp,
Moss Icon,
Black Pus,
Unrelated Segments,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kerri Chandler,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Sound,
The Monks,
Joe Smooth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Infiniti,
Dorothy Ashby,
Johnny Osbourne,
Basic Channel,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Swell Maps,
Negative Approach,
The Motions,
Buzzcocks,
Babytalk,
The Mummies,
The Victims,
Shoche,
Davy DMX,
Fad Gadget,
The Five Americans,
Funkadelic,
Y Pants,
Flash Fearless,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Association,
Reuben Wilson,
Flipper,
Intrusion,
Blossom Toes,
The Buckinghams,
MC5,
Minor Threat,
ABBA,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Anakelly,
Severed Heads,
Toni Rubio,
Make Up,
One Last Wish,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.