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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lagos.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Inner City to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Erasure,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Evens,
Wally Richardson,
Severed Heads,
Heaven 17,
Von Mondo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Johnny Osbourne,
Inner City,
Bobby Womack,
Stockholm Monsters,
Excepter,
The Move,
Lower 48,
Fear,
Cal Tjader,
Nik Kershaw,
Marmalade,
The Leaves,
Icehouse,
John Lydon,
Bizarre Inc.,
Radio Birdman,
Mark Hollis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Red Krayola,
Basic Channel,
Los Fastidios,
Darondo,
Alton Ellis,
Echospace,
Subhumans,
Deakin,
John Cale,
Rufus Thomas,
Bauhaus,
the Slits,
Unwound,
Make Up,
the Germs,
Idris Muhammad,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Fad Gadget,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pere Ubu,
The Durutti Column,
Interpol,
Blake Baxter,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Hardrive,
Quadrant,
The Human League,
Faraquet,
The Fugs,
Procol Harum,
Adolescents,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.