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 Nauru and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Alice Coltrane to the crunk 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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun City Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
the Normal,
Sugar Minott,
Khruangbin,
The Modern Lovers,
Aloha Tigers,
The Dead C,
Marcia Griffiths,
R.M.O.,
Motorama,
Fatback Band,
Soulsonic Force,
Nirvana,
Arab on Radar,
Dual Sessions,
The Trojans,
AZ,
Black Sheep,
Erasure,
The Leaves,
Tropical Tobacco,
Q and Not U,
The Sonics,
the Bar-Kays,
Dark Day,
Con Funk Shun,
The Zeros,
Crooked Eye,
Sun City Girls,
James White and The Blacks,
Lower 48,
Interpol,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Main Source,
Harry Pussy,
Wasted Youth,
Sandy B,
Jawbox,
Sparks,
Dennis Brown,
UT,
Rakim,
Pussy Galore,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Monochrome Set,
B.T. Express,
the Sonics,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jeff Lynne,
Inner City,
Dead Boys,
The Pretty Things,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Maurizio,
Magma,
Black Bananas,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Wake,
Fluxion,
Marc Almond,
Rotary Connection,
Bobby Sherman,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.