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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
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 güiro 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 Mr. Review to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Prince Buster,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Los Fastidios,
Derrick Morgan,
The Blackbyrds,
The Martian,
The Moody Blues,
Nas,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Audionom,
The Cowsills,
John Foxx,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Monochrome Set,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Zapp,
Todd Rundgren,
U.S. Maple,
Alphaville,
Wally Richardson,
The Vogues,
Chris Corsano,
Wings,
Joy Division,
Siglo XX,
Lucky Dragons,
10cc,
Jacob Miller,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Organ,
Goldenarms,
The Index,
The Saints,
Rosa Yemen,
The Skatalites,
Black Moon,
Crispian St. Peters,
New Age Steppers,
PIL,
Surgeon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soul Sonic Force,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mars,
Bob Dylan,
Shuggie Otis,
Bill Near,
Gang Starr,
Yaz,
Flash Fearless,
Chrome,
Rapeman,
Arab on Radar,
The Star Department,
The Litter,
Connie Case,
The Buckinghams,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.