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 Tajikistan and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Moby Grape to the jazz 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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Neu!,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rakim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ituana,
Desert Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bush Tetras,
Stereo Dub,
Bill Near,
Reagan Youth,
Lalann,
Dead Boys,
Lungfish,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gap Band,
The Sonics,
Thee Headcoats,
Organ,
Deadbeat,
Danielle Patucci,
Index,
Grandmaster Flash,
Procol Harum,
Harry Pussy,
Intrusion,
Erasure,
Gichy Dan,
One Last Wish,
The Last Poets,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Donald Byrd,
Joe Finger,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rekid,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eden Ahbez,
Pussy Galore,
Mark Hollis,
The Saints,
David Bowie,
Silicon Teens,
Radio Birdman,
The Remains,
Electric Prunes,
Tears for Fears,
The Electric Prunes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marcia Griffiths,
La Düsseldorf,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
X-102,
The Names,
Sonny Sharrock,
Alice Coltrane,
Lakeside,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.