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 Guatemala and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba 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 Bizarre Inc. to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Al Stewart,
Cheater Slicks,
Boz Scaggs,
Deakin,
Connie Case,
Fela Kuti,
Y Pants,
Crispian St. Peters,
John Cale,
Nick Fraelich,
The Victims,
Heaven 17,
Excepter,
Section 25,
The Techniques,
Das Ding,
The Angels of Light,
Black Moon,
Shuggie Otis,
Joyce Sims,
The Tremeloes,
The Beau Brummels,
Alphaville,
R.M.O.,
The Smiths,
This Heat,
Absolute Body Control,
Jacques Brel,
Black Bananas,
E-Dancer,
The Litter,
Aloha Tigers,
The Young Rascals,
The Martian,
Scan 7,
Iggy Pop,
Marmalade,
Colin Newman,
The Golliwogs,
Chris & Cosey,
Eli Mardock,
Bush Tetras,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pantytec,
UT,
Cameo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The United States of America,
Yaz,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Pus,
Infiniti,
Electric Prunes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Hoover,
Neu!,
Vladislav Delay,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
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.