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 Sierra Leone and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Smiths to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Slits,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pole,
Albert Ayler,
Harry Pussy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Real Kids,
A Certain Ratio,
Amazonics,
Audionom,
Scratch Acid,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Maleditus Sound,
Soft Machine,
The J.B.'s,
The Birthday Party,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mr. Review,
Second Layer,
Liliput,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gun Club,
Harmonia,
David Bowie,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wally Richardson,
Deadbeat,
Spandau Ballet,
Joy Division,
Roy Ayers,
Sixth Finger,
Joe Smooth,
Lindisfarne,
Aural Exciters,
Agent Orange,
Danielle Patucci,
Eddi Front,
The Buckinghams,
Q65,
Flamin' Groovies,
Camouflage,
The Fall,
The Black Dice,
Donny Hathaway,
E-Dancer,
Don Cherry,
Graham Central Station,
Pussy Galore,
Nik Kershaw,
Bronski Beat,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Blancmange,
Grey Daturas,
Minny Pops,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.