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 Chile and from Delhi.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Underground Resistance to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hasil Adkins,
The Sound,
Gang of Four,
Symarip,
Peter & Gordon,
Morten Harket,
The Fall,
Amazonics,
E-Dancer,
Patti Smith,
The Blackbyrds,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jerry's Kids,
Archie Shepp,
The Standells,
The Toasters,
Nik Kershaw,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Litter,
Mark Hollis,
Kool Moe Dee,
Soul Sonic Force,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lindisfarne,
The Monochrome Set,
F. McDonald,
Tom Boy,
Pantaleimon,
The Angels of Light,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Dave Gahan,
The Motions,
Hashim,
Arcadia,
Tears for Fears,
Pylon,
David McCallum,
Kayak,
Liliput,
The Electric Prunes,
Youth Brigade,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Gap Band,
Robert Hood,
The Fugs,
Michelle Simonal,
Saccharine Trust,
Subhumans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The American Breed,
The Pretty Things,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Masters at Work,
Inner City,
the Bar-Kays,
Sex Pistols,
The Trojans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.