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 Honduras and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the funk 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
The Fire Engines,
David McCallum,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roger Hodgson,
The J.B.'s,
The Dead C,
The Index,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Magazine,
Slick Rick,
The Durutti Column,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wasted Youth,
The Victims,
Boredoms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cameo,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Fall,
The Grass Roots,
DJ Sneak,
Sixth Finger,
KRS-One,
Rod Modell,
Jandek,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Danielle Patucci,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Sheep,
Saccharine Trust,
Andrew Hill,
Rapeman,
Crime,
The Cramps,
Man Parrish,
The Young Rascals,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Human League,
Soul II Soul,
The Misunderstood,
Oblivians,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Smoke,
The Monks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scientists,
Erykah Badu,
Todd Rundgren,
Charles Mingus,
The Residents,
Ornette Coleman,
Cecil Taylor,
Symarip,
Franke,
Lightning Bolt,
Audionom,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.