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 Palau and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 New Age Steppers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Make Up,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Angry Samoans,
Cal Tjader,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Whodini,
Wasted Youth,
Popol Vuh,
Motorama,
Loose Ends,
Half Japanese,
Byron Stingily,
Television Personalities,
Harmonia,
Ituana,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Electric Prunes,
Max Romeo,
The Techniques,
Marshall Jefferson,
Alice Coltrane,
The Pop Group,
Mark Hollis,
Anakelly,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Patti Smith,
Joy Division,
Funky Four + One,
Funkadelic,
The Doors,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Velvet Underground,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rites of Spring,
Massinfluence,
Todd Terry,
Hashim,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gang Green,
Dead Boys,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Roxy Music,
Japan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
R.M.O.,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sun Ra,
CMW,
The Pretty Things,
Intrusion,
Scion,
Warsaw,
Charles Mingus,
The Wake,
Bobby Byrd,
The Kinks,
Tres Demented,
Subhumans,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eli Mardock,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.