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 Uruguay and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Salvador.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Tim Buckley to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Arab on Radar,
Sixth Finger,
Steve Hackett,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Shadows of Knight,
48th St. Collective,
Mission of Burma,
June Days,
Sound Behaviour,
Sex Pistols,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Severed Heads,
The Fortunes,
Carl Craig,
Bronski Beat,
the Bar-Kays,
The Toasters,
Pagans,
Joensuu 1685,
The Offenders,
Pole,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Saints,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
China Crisis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Morten Harket,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Pantaleimon,
Hardrive,
The Motions,
Cameo,
X-Ray Spex,
Grauzone,
Unwound,
Sällskapet,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Main Source,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bill Wells,
Gichy Dan,
Procol Harum,
The Doors,
The Associates,
The Divine Comedy,
Yaz,
Magma,
Janne Schatter,
Minny Pops,
Bauhaus,
Simply Red,
The Zeros,
Flash Fearless,
Tomorrow,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pantytec,
The Raincoats,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.