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 Lithuania and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Boogie Down Productions to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Crash Course in Science,
Junior Murvin,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hot Snakes,
Suicide,
Pole,
The Walker Brothers,
Public Enemy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Y Pants,
Skaos,
Camouflage,
The Kinks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Godley & Creme,
Slick Rick,
AZ,
Surgeon,
Dawn Penn,
the Association,
Eddi Front,
Lou Christie,
Moby Grape,
Rod Modell,
Magazine,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
D'Angelo,
L. Decosne,
Henry Cow,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Cure,
Sixth Finger,
MDC,
The Pretty Things,
The Seeds,
Soft Cell,
The Raincoats,
The Misunderstood,
Wally Richardson,
Lucky Dragons,
John Cale,
The J.B.'s,
UT,
Infiniti,
Nico,
the Germs,
Gastr Del Sol,
Shuggie Otis,
Warsaw,
The Mojo Men,
Matthew Halsall,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Doobie Brothers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Laurel Aitken,
The Saints,
John Lydon,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.