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 Gabon and from Lagos.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Agent Orange to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Zero Boys,
Michelle Simonal,
In Retrospect,
Bootsy Collins,
Flamin' Groovies,
Crispy Ambulance,
Faust,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Black Dice,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tears for Fears,
Tomorrow,
Kerri Chandler,
The Misunderstood,
Iggy Pop,
Gabor Szabo,
Bush Tetras,
Arab on Radar,
The Monks,
UT,
Quantec,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cybotron,
Monks,
June of 44,
Oblivians,
Circle Jerks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-101,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fall,
The Blues Magoos,
The New Christs,
The Litter,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Moleskins,
Rakim,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Youth Brigade,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Association,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Camberwell Now,
Mo-Dettes,
Jandek,
Rod Modell,
Radio Birdman,
Bluetip,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Graham Central Station,
The Doors,
Bill Wells,
Severed Heads,
Excepter,
Zapp,
Brick,
The Invisible,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.