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 Egypt and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Arab on Radar,
Chris Corsano,
Derrick May,
Mad Mike,
Donald Byrd,
Harmonia,
Barrington Levy,
The Sound,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Severed Heads,
Roxette,
Fat Boys,
Amon Düül II,
The Mojo Men,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kenny Larkin,
The Fuzztones,
Vainqueur,
Swans,
Neil Young,
Lucky Dragons,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fear,
Byron Stingily,
Gang Starr,
Godley & Creme,
The Knickerbockers,
Albert Ayler,
Max Romeo,
Sandy B,
The Fire Engines,
Simply Red,
Anthony Braxton,
Unrelated Segments,
Jesper Dahlback,
KRS-One,
Little Man,
The J.B.'s,
The Cure,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Visage,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Procol Harum,
DJ Style,
Joe Smooth,
Moby Grape,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Essential Logic,
The Smoke,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Stiv Bators,
Jerry's Kids,
Scratch Acid,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.