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 Comoros and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 theremin 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 The Cowsills to the techno 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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Spandau Ballet,
The Names,
Blake Baxter,
Minutemen,
Model 500,
Sällskapet,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Evens,
Boredoms,
Freddie Wadling,
Pussy Galore,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lebanon Hanover,
Hardrive,
the Bar-Kays,
Ituana,
Tubeway Army,
Kerrie Biddell,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
MDC,
Q and Not U,
The Birthday Party,
the Human League,
Reuben Wilson,
Mo-Dettes,
The Barracudas,
Swans,
Sex Pistols,
Hasil Adkins,
10cc,
Jesper Dahlback,
Danielle Patucci,
Mad Mike,
Moby Grape,
Supertramp,
Funky Four + One,
Quadrant,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Interpol,
The Pop Group,
Frankie Knuckles,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Albert Ayler,
Bang On A Can,
Icehouse,
The Monks,
Thee Headcoats,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Althea and Donna,
Soulsonic Force,
The Misunderstood,
Ice-T,
Steve Hackett,
The Index,
Arthur Verocai,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Invisible,
Echospace,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.