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 St Lucia and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Smiths to the rap 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 Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Arcadia,
Scott Walker,
The Gap Band,
Joe Finger,
Radio Birdman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Cramps,
Pantytec,
Motorama,
New Age Steppers,
Echospace,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Slits,
Big Daddy Kane,
Los Fastidios,
Marc Almond,
Sonic Youth,
Rekid,
Donny Hathaway,
Pussy Galore,
Agent Orange,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Clear Light,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sam Rivers,
Qualms,
Derrick Morgan,
Flipper,
Mark Hollis,
Joy Division,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kenny Larkin,
The Tremeloes,
Bootsy Collins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jeru the Damaja,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Dead C,
The Names,
AZ,
Bobby Sherman,
Television,
Tim Buckley,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Golliwogs,
Bill Near,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Thompson Twins,
Jacob Miller,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mars,
Dennis Brown,
The Kinks,
Pole,
Skaos,
Gang Starr,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Newcleus,
Ronan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.