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 Switzerland and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Mr. Review 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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Popol Vuh,
MC5,
The Doobie Brothers,
Hoover,
Marine Girls,
The Gun Club,
Negative Approach,
AZ,
The Smoke,
U.S. Maple,
Robert Wyatt,
Moebius,
Flipper,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mars,
The Kinks,
Black Pus,
The Offenders,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Monks,
Electric Prunes,
The Happenings,
Scratch Acid,
The Music Machine,
kango's stein massive,
The Shadows of Knight,
Al Stewart,
Niagra,
These Immortal Souls,
Drexciya,
Rosa Yemen,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gastr Del Sol,
Morten Harket,
Bill Near,
Slave,
Soft Cell,
The Smiths,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Echospace,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Arcadia,
Gregory Isaacs,
Y Pants,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Selecter,
Pulsallama,
The Associates,
Carl Craig,
Yazoo,
Bizarre Inc.,
Talk Talk,
Depeche Mode,
Symarip,
Shoche,
Television Personalities,
Malaria!,
Kas Product,
The Human League,
Camouflage,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.