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 South Africa and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Bluetip to the dance 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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Fluxion,
Spandau Ballet,
Bad Manners,
The Gories,
Rakim,
Matthew Bourne,
Dead Boys,
Excepter,
Maleditus Sound,
Pierre Henry,
Slick Rick,
the Soft Cell,
Moby Grape,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Busters,
DJ Sneak,
Babytalk,
The Misunderstood,
The Seeds,
Black Bananas,
Ken Boothe,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Section 25,
Donald Byrd,
Schoolly D,
Radiopuhelimet,
Brothers Johnson,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Janne Schatter,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jerry's Kids,
Symarip,
Quando Quango,
Donny Hathaway,
Matthew Halsall,
Minor Threat,
Accadde A,
Yaz,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Marvin Gaye,
Infiniti,
Audionom,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang Green,
Lower 48,
Spoonie Gee,
Ronnie Foster,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sonny Sharrock,
Toni Rubio,
Y Pants,
Nick Fraelich,
The Durutti Column,
Todd Terry,
Mary Jane Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Oblivians,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.