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 Niger and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 spring reverb 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 The Modern Lovers to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Faraquet,
Public Enemy,
Depeche Mode,
Ronan,
Los Fastidios,
Warren Ellis,
Eric B and Rakim,
In Retrospect,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Happenings,
Tears for Fears,
Babytalk,
Eric Dolphy,
Parry Music,
Moebius,
Derrick May,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Laurel Aitken,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Stockholm Monsters,
Howard Jones,
Amazonics,
Livin' Joy,
Spoonie Gee,
the Swans,
Scan 7,
Idris Muhammad,
The Knickerbockers,
Minor Threat,
Second Layer,
Lower 48,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sexual Harrassment,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kayak,
Bobby Byrd,
Michelle Simonal,
Minutemen,
Mark Hollis,
Metal Thangz,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Alphaville,
Procol Harum,
Gong,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stetsasonic,
Japan,
Darondo,
John Cale,
Joe Smooth,
Rakim,
Brothers Johnson,
Amon Düül II,
The Stooges,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Bar-Kays,
Reuben Wilson,
Arthur Verocai,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.