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 Oman and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Wings to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Prince Buster,
Eric Dolphy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sun City Girls,
Faraquet,
Intrusion,
Fugazi,
X-102,
The Smiths,
The Toasters,
X-Ray Spex,
James White and The Blacks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Anakelly,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
OOIOO,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nick Fraelich,
Shuggie Otis,
Bob Dylan,
Crash Course in Science,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Pretty Things,
Symarip,
Basic Channel,
Throbbing Gristle,
cv313,
Todd Rundgren,
Pere Ubu,
E-Dancer,
KRS-One,
Arthur Verocai,
Traffic Nightmare,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
T.S.O.L.,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kenny Larkin,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bad Manners,
The Misunderstood,
The Dirtbombs,
The Last Poets,
Ice-T,
Joy Division,
The Kinks,
The Buckinghams,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eurythmics,
F. McDonald,
The Fortunes,
Second Layer,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Saccharine Trust,
Tomorrow,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Reagan Youth,
Cheater Slicks,
Glenn Branca,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.