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 Ghana and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Flamin' Groovies to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Saints,
Bang On A Can,
Alison Limerick,
Glambeats Corp.,
The American Breed,
the Fania All-Stars,
Boredoms,
Lou Christie,
Slave,
Idris Muhammad,
Fad Gadget,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Talk Talk,
Anthony Braxton,
Man Parrish,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Angels of Light,
Jeff Mills,
Boogie Down Productions,
Laurel Aitken,
Minor Threat,
Hot Snakes,
Scott Walker,
Blake Baxter,
Dorothy Ashby,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Electric Prunes,
Oblivians,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Pretty Things,
Donald Byrd,
Juan Atkins,
Flipper,
Bobby Womack,
Liliput,
Eddi Front,
Basic Channel,
Unrelated Segments,
X-102,
Reuben Wilson,
Royal Trux,
The Martian,
John Foxx,
Swans,
Roxette,
China Crisis,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Kerrie Biddell,
Amon Düül,
Model 500,
Joey Negro,
Warsaw,
Main Source,
Maurizio,
Black Moon,
Black Sheep,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mark Hollis,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.