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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Index to the funk 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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
DJ Sneak,
Fluxion,
Albert Ayler,
Scott Walker,
Q65,
Swell Maps,
Bobby Sherman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Soft Cell,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Monks,
Lower 48,
Patti Smith,
Glenn Branca,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sex Pistols,
the Germs,
The American Breed,
Quadrant,
Drexciya,
Sexual Harrassment,
Youth Brigade,
Rakim,
Nils Olav,
Average White Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Soulsonic Force,
Jeff Lynne,
John Lydon,
Agent Orange,
Barry Ungar,
Babytalk,
Dark Day,
Jeru the Damaja,
Byron Stingily,
Bootsy Collins,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Thee Headcoats,
Bizarre Inc.,
Cameo,
The Smiths,
Suicide,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gap Band,
Funky Four + One,
The Selecter,
The Electric Prunes,
Fela Kuti,
The Index,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cybotron,
Deadbeat,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Intrusion,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
World's Most,
The Last Poets,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.