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 Eritrea and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Deadbeat to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Robert Hood,
Lee Hazlewood,
K-Klass,
X-102,
Black Pus,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Siglo XX,
The Gun Club,
Kevin Saunderson,
T.S.O.L.,
JFA,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Cheater Slicks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Fall,
Au Pairs,
Vladislav Delay,
The Red Krayola,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gang of Four,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Curtis Mayfield,
Suicide,
Ultra Naté,
Clear Light,
The Fuzztones,
Maurizio,
Shuggie Otis,
Model 500,
Peter and Kerry,
Darondo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Loose Ends,
Malaria!,
Wings,
Television Personalities,
Joyce Sims,
Andrew Hill,
The Electric Prunes,
Y Pants,
One Last Wish,
Icehouse,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lyres,
The Buckinghams,
Bauhaus,
John Holt,
The Doors,
Duran Duran,
Prince Buster,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marshall Jefferson,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Guru Guru,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scion,
Alison Limerick,
Arthur Verocai,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.