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 Sierra Leone and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Alison Limerick 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Nas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dave Gahan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joyce Sims,
the Germs,
Echospace,
Robert Hood,
Minnie Riperton,
Deadbeat,
Moebius,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Coltrane,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Dirtbombs,
Heaven 17,
Scion,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Matthew Bourne,
Radiohead,
Reuben Wilson,
Lou Reed,
Suicide,
Amon Düül II,
The Seeds,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Chris Corsano,
Reagan Youth,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Severed Heads,
China Crisis,
New York Dolls,
Peter & Gordon,
Byron Stingily,
Hoover,
Kaleidoscope,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Blackbyrds,
Pantytec,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mo-Dettes,
Rosa Yemen,
Bill Wells,
The Barracudas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rites of Spring,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Gories,
Interpol,
Negative Approach,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Godley & Creme,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Monochrome Set,
Minutemen,
Warsaw,
David Bowie,
Eurythmics,
Eric Copeland,
kango's stein massive,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.