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 Mexico and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Deepchord to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Terrestrial Tones,
Arthur Verocai,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Sonics,
Shoche,
The Cramps,
Amazonics,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Harmonia,
Matthew Bourne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lightning Bolt,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jerry's Kids,
Pantaleimon,
Sällskapet,
Marc Almond,
Peter & Gordon,
Negative Approach,
Saccharine Trust,
Mr. Review,
Make Up,
Visage,
Talk Talk,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Television Personalities,
Freddie Wadling,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Dead C,
The Happenings,
Essential Logic,
Ultimate Spinach,
In Retrospect,
Sonic Youth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pantytec,
Roy Ayers,
Gichy Dan,
Matthew Halsall,
the Association,
Franke,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Reagan Youth,
Amon Düül II,
Jeff Lynne,
Grandmaster Flash,
World's Most,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Grass Roots,
Carl Craig,
Qualms,
The Motions,
Gastr Del Sol,
Masters at Work,
Jacques Brel,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marine Girls,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.