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 Philippines and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Dirtbombs to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Icehouse,
MC5,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Associates,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Electric Prunes,
Skriet,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sound,
Ronan,
Blancmange,
Section 25,
The United States of America,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dawn Penn,
Brick,
Todd Rundgren,
Bizarre Inc.,
Andrew Hill,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fatback Band,
Alton Ellis,
Con Funk Shun,
Blossom Toes,
Jeff Lynne,
the Germs,
Royal Trux,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bad Manners,
Angry Samoans,
Lalann,
Lakeside,
Peter and Kerry,
Pet Shop Boys,
Desert Stars,
The Skatalites,
Nick Fraelich,
The Trojans,
The Velvet Underground,
Rapeman,
Camouflage,
The Stooges,
Kenny Larkin,
Sandy B,
The Cramps,
Groovy Waters,
Basic Channel,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Babytalk,
Mr. Review,
One Last Wish,
Roy Ayers,
Aaron Thompson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rites of Spring,
The Toasters,
Joe Finger,
Panda Bear,
Sparks,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.