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 Denmark and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter & Gordon,
Angry Samoans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gong,
Fugazi,
Alphaville,
Pierre Henry,
Pet Shop Boys,
Juan Atkins,
The Raincoats,
Ponytail,
Rufus Thomas,
The Mummies,
The Gladiators,
Tommy Roe,
DNA,
Dead Boys,
R.M.O.,
The Knickerbockers,
Ossler,
T. Rex,
Ludus,
Rekid,
Malaria!,
Inner City,
the Human League,
Intrusion,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Masters at Work,
The Mojo Men,
FM Einheit,
Avey Tare,
Gregory Isaacs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bronski Beat,
James White and The Blacks,
Graham Central Station,
Howard Jones,
The Modern Lovers,
Rapeman,
Brothers Johnson,
Country Teasers,
John Coltrane,
Jawbox,
Bobby Byrd,
Cecil Taylor,
Idris Muhammad,
The Slits,
Hasil Adkins,
Prince Buster,
Banda Bassotti,
Reagan Youth,
Outsiders,
Pussy Galore,
Agent Orange,
The Index,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Scrapy,
Groovy Waters,
The United States of America,
Rosa Yemen,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.