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 Peru and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 arpeggiator 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 Silicon Teens to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Fifty Foot Hose,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Birthday Party,
Maurizio,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dave Gahan,
Marvin Gaye,
Bobby Hutcherson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pole,
Vladislav Delay,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mummies,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sister Nancy,
Deadbeat,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lungfish,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Electric Prunes,
Outsiders,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mad Mike,
D'Angelo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Surgeon,
Scott Walker,
Piero Umiliani,
Icehouse,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hoover,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols,
X-Ray Spex,
Soft Cell,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Gun Club,
Tomorrow,
U.S. Maple,
Jawbox,
Index,
Gang of Four,
Goldenarms,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Hot Snakes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Henry Cow,
Idris Muhammad,
Laurel Aitken,
Robert Wyatt,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Music Machine,
The Angels of Light,
Theoretical Girls,
Amazonics,
The Leaves,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.