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 Tuvalu and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Germs to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Groovy Waters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pet Shop Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
DNA,
Lindisfarne,
The Dead C,
The Moleskins,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Shadows of Knight,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Divine Comedy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Iggy Pop,
The Count Five,
Malaria!,
Stetsasonic,
Mandrill,
The Velvet Underground,
Ituana,
Scion,
Eurythmics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Visage,
Don Cherry,
Youth Brigade,
Camouflage,
Albert Ayler,
Marmalade,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Byron Stingily,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Traffic Nightmare,
Von Mondo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roxy Music,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Black Sheep,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Michelle Simonal,
Flash Fearless,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rufus Thomas,
Au Pairs,
Masters at Work,
the Swans,
Livin' Joy,
China Crisis,
FM Einheit,
Lou Christie,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mr. Review,
Alton Ellis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Slits,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.