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 Spain and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 clarinet 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 The Beau Brummels to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Heaven 17,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Young Marble Giants,
The Fuzztones,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Spandau Ballet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Blancmange,
Stockholm Monsters,
Laurel Aitken,
Vainqueur,
Supertramp,
UT,
Whodini,
the Soft Cell,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Saints,
Mandrill,
Scrapy,
Bootsy Collins,
Eve St. Jones,
The Fugs,
Intrusion,
Oblivians,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
F. McDonald,
Accadde A,
the Bar-Kays,
Masters at Work,
Unwound,
LL Cool J,
Cecil Taylor,
DJ Style,
Barbara Tucker,
Nirvana,
Roy Ayers,
Wire,
The New Christs,
Grey Daturas,
8 Eyed Spy,
Vladislav Delay,
Altered Images,
Aural Exciters,
Sex Pistols,
The Star Department,
ABBA,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Count Five,
Con Funk Shun,
Dave Gahan,
Technova,
The Human League,
The Tremeloes,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Remains,
The Invisible,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.