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 Salvador.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 organ 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Agitation Free,
Urselle,
Saccharine Trust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Buzzcocks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Blossom Toes,
Tom Boy,
Kas Product,
PIL,
ABC,
Johnny Clarke,
Public Enemy,
Pantaleimon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Suburban Knight,
The Sound,
Lou Reed,
Drexciya,
The Names,
The Cure,
FM Einheit,
The Human League,
Freddie Wadling,
Heaven 17,
Delon & Dalcan,
T. Rex,
Steve Hackett,
Make Up,
Zapp,
The Busters,
The Dead C,
Das Ding,
F. McDonald,
Kaleidoscope,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Radiohead,
Kayak,
Negative Approach,
CMW,
Sex Pistols,
The Real Kids,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Sonics,
Half Japanese,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Modern Lovers,
Outsiders,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Spoonie Gee,
Crash Course in Science,
Boredoms,
Fat Boys,
Electric Light Orchestra,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yaz,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.