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 Pakistan and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 The Evens to the funk 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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Rites of Spring,
China Crisis,
Roger Hodgson,
Index,
Marc Almond,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gabor Szabo,
Faust,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Happenings,
Scott Walker,
Nirvana,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lakeside,
Laurel Aitken,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Siglo XX,
Skaos,
Eric Copeland,
Aaron Thompson,
The Knickerbockers,
The Smoke,
Al Stewart,
Iggy Pop,
New York Dolls,
Wasted Youth,
Black Bananas,
Colin Newman,
The Pretty Things,
Subhumans,
Glenn Branca,
L. Decosne,
Derrick Morgan,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Howard Jones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jeff Mills,
Rosa Yemen,
Boredoms,
Lou Christie,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Terrestrial Tones,
Matthew Halsall,
Jawbox,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cheater Slicks,
X-Ray Spex,
Young Marble Giants,
Leonard Cohen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jandek,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Shoche,
The Selecter,
Adolescents,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Peter & Gordon,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.