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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Victims to the crunk 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Inner City,
Sight & Sound,
Cal Tjader,
Tubeway Army,
Aloha Tigers,
Eric Copeland,
Funky Four + One,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lalo Schifrin,
The United States of America,
H. Thieme,
Bluetip,
Swans,
Clear Light,
The Moleskins,
June of 44,
Bill Wells,
Faust,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Buzzcocks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Juan Atkins,
kango's stein massive,
The Sonics,
Kevin Saunderson,
Angry Samoans,
The Slits,
Suicide,
Quando Quango,
Brass Construction,
James White and The Blacks,
Man Parrish,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Boogie Down Productions,
Altered Images,
Judy Mowatt,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Make Up,
Schoolly D,
Glenn Branca,
Kool Moe Dee,
Groovy Waters,
Animal Collective,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Young Marble Giants,
Todd Rundgren,
Rapeman,
Marc Almond,
Al Stewart,
Ken Boothe,
Circle Jerks,
Eve St. Jones,
Unrelated Segments,
Skarface,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blossom Toes,
Tom Boy,
Public Image Ltd.,
R.M.O.,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.