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 Kyrgyzstan 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Last Poets to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ronan. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Sun Ra,
Whodini,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gong,
Roxette,
Amon Düül,
Danielle Patucci,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ornette Coleman,
Dennis Brown,
Lindisfarne,
48th St. Collective,
June Days,
Robert Wyatt,
The Dead C,
Don Cherry,
The Monochrome Set,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeff Mills,
T. Rex,
Warsaw,
The Smiths,
Das Ding,
Television,
Y Pants,
Max Romeo,
Terry Callier,
Ultra Naté,
Alphaville,
Babytalk,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gang of Four,
Sarah Menescal,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Move,
Quadrant,
Soft Cell,
UT,
Patti Smith,
Matthew Bourne,
Mr. Review,
Bluetip,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
a-ha,
Slick Rick,
Howard Jones,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Section 25,
Camouflage,
Bizarre Inc.,
Index,
The Fortunes,
Ken Boothe,
The Techniques,
Animal Collective,
FM Einheit,
Soul II Soul,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soft Machine,
Marshall Jefferson,
Moebius,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.