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 Czech Republic and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 synthesizer 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 Funkadelic to the grime 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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Cecil Taylor,
Hashim,
John Foxx,
Skriet,
the Swans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
cv313,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bobby Womack,
The United States of America,
Siglo XX,
The Mummies,
Patti Smith,
The Standells,
Donald Byrd,
Faraquet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
48th St. Collective,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mad Mike,
Make Up,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Duran Duran,
Flipper,
Roger Hodgson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Infiniti,
Underground Resistance,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The American Breed,
Mr. Review,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
X-Ray Spex,
Motorama,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Agent Orange,
Suburban Knight,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Interpol,
Derrick May,
Radiopuhelimet,
Man Parrish,
Shoche,
Traffic Nightmare,
Al Stewart,
Derrick Morgan,
Circle Jerks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Heaven 17,
The Saints,
The Martian,
R.M.O.,
Eurythmics,
Scratch Acid,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Maleditus Sound,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.