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 Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 rhodes 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 Gichy Dan to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
The Knickerbockers,
Tears for Fears,
Maurizio,
Arab on Radar,
Rufus Thomas,
Jawbox,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Symarip,
The Invisible,
One Last Wish,
Bush Tetras,
The Mummies,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joey Negro,
Jeff Mills,
Marc Almond,
Blancmange,
The Victims,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pere Ubu,
Vladislav Delay,
Michelle Simonal,
Severed Heads,
Bob Dylan,
Brothers Johnson,
Oneida,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Oblivians,
Patti Smith,
Nils Olav,
Harpers Bizarre,
8 Eyed Spy,
June Days,
Crime,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Babytalk,
Visage,
Swans,
Mark Hollis,
Arcadia,
Nik Kershaw,
Dave Gahan,
The Raincoats,
Donald Byrd,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Last Poets,
Thee Headcoats,
Tres Demented,
T. Rex,
The Gun Club,
Stiv Bators,
Peter & Gordon,
Sound Behaviour,
Wolf Eyes,
Depeche Mode,
Television Personalities,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Amon Düül II,
OOIOO,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gap Band,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.