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 Brunei and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Smoke to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Matthew Bourne,
Heaven 17,
Fat Boys,
Black Flag,
Tres Demented,
Johnny Osbourne,
Funkadelic,
Agent Orange,
Lakeside,
EPMD,
8 Eyed Spy,
Junior Murvin,
In Retrospect,
T. Rex,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Avey Tare,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Blackbyrds,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cymande,
Fad Gadget,
X-Ray Spex,
Scientists,
The Durutti Column,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barry Ungar,
Ossler,
Steve Hackett,
Blancmange,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fire Engines,
Massinfluence,
Joy Division,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Velvet Underground,
Joey Negro,
Harmonia,
Franke,
Spandau Ballet,
David McCallum,
Letta Mbulu,
Joensuu 1685,
John Lydon,
Prince Buster,
Robert Görl,
Juan Atkins,
Organ,
Peter and Kerry,
The Fall,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Saints,
Television Personalities,
Ohio Players,
Skarface,
the Normal,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Scott Walker,
Dennis Brown,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.