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 Azerbaijan and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fuzztones to the rock 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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Soft Cell,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bad Manners,
The United States of America,
This Heat,
Electric Prunes,
Dead Boys,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Althea and Donna,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Velvet Underground,
The Birthday Party,
The Sound,
Spoonie Gee,
Zapp,
Skaos,
Roxette,
Laurel Aitken,
Deadbeat,
Scratch Acid,
Bobby Byrd,
Eden Ahbez,
Funky Four + One,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Pop Group,
June of 44,
Radiohead,
New York Dolls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Robert Görl,
Wasted Youth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Los Fastidios,
The Detroit Cobras,
Reagan Youth,
Brick,
Dark Day,
Agent Orange,
Metal Thangz,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Warren Ellis,
Alton Ellis,
The Pretty Things,
Isaac Hayes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Charles Mingus,
Rekid,
Bobby Womack,
The Happenings,
Section 25,
The Buckinghams,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Prince Buster,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Spandau Ballet,
Q65,
Angry Samoans,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.