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 Nigeria and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Quadrant to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sandy B,
Crispian St. Peters,
Qualms,
Charles Mingus,
Brass Construction,
Boredoms,
Vladislav Delay,
The Human League,
Aloha Tigers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Pretty Things,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The United States of America,
Easy Going,
Accadde A,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Toasters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Germs,
Groovy Waters,
Faraquet,
Monolake,
kango's stein massive,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Moebius,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
EPMD,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Barrington Levy,
Livin' Joy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Soft Cell,
David McCallum,
John Lydon,
The Dead C,
Pantaleimon,
Scratch Acid,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Joy Division,
L. Decosne,
Can,
Ultravox,
Symarip,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ice-T,
Thee Headcoats,
Silicon Teens,
John Holt,
Terry Callier,
Erykah Badu,
Main Source,
the Slits,
Connie Case,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Public Image Ltd.,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.