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 Malaysia and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Buzzcocks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Faraquet,
Rekid,
The Smiths,
Thee Headcoats,
Spandau Ballet,
Andrew Hill,
Graham Central Station,
The Zeros,
Moby Grape,
Angry Samoans,
the Swans,
the Sonics,
Trumans Water,
Cybotron,
The Flesh Eaters,
Procol Harum,
Deepchord,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Big Daddy Kane,
Terry Callier,
China Crisis,
Nirvana,
John Holt,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kerri Chandler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Donald Byrd,
Anakelly,
Swell Maps,
Intrusion,
David Bowie,
Dennis Brown,
Toni Rubio,
The Modern Lovers,
Thompson Twins,
Half Japanese,
The Mummies,
Quadrant,
Bill Wells,
Fluxion,
Frankie Knuckles,
Scientists,
Mandrill,
The Blackbyrds,
Q and Not U,
Soulsonic Force,
Peter & Gordon,
Sugar Minott,
DJ Style,
Little Man,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dark Day,
Robert Hood,
Sparks,
Parry Music,
The Red Krayola,
Danielle Patucci,
Public Enemy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tres Demented,
Robert Wyatt,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.