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 Bolivia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ 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 The Mojo Men to the punk 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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donny Hathaway record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
The Standells,
Sight & Sound,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mandrill,
Amon Düül,
Sarah Menescal,
Y Pants,
DNA,
The Motions,
One Last Wish,
Roxy Music,
This Heat,
The Golliwogs,
the Fania All-Stars,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ten City,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Oblivians,
Todd Rundgren,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
a-ha,
The Toasters,
The Grass Roots,
Peter and Kerry,
Liliput,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Hasil Adkins,
Essential Logic,
Frankie Knuckles,
Reuben Wilson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scan 7,
Accadde A,
Jandek,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Q and Not U,
Second Layer,
Dual Sessions,
the Swans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Malaria!,
Model 500,
Arthur Verocai,
JFA,
Marvin Gaye,
Joe Finger,
Mars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Terry Callier,
Bluetip,
Warsaw,
Tropical Tobacco,
Josef K,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Man Eating Sloth,
L. Decosne,
Sam Rivers,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.