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 Hungary and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the electroclash 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 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?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Busters,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Donald Byrd,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scion,
Deadbeat,
Tears for Fears,
Prince Buster,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ronan,
The Pretty Things,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Babytalk,
Kenny Larkin,
The Blackbyrds,
Stetsasonic,
Young Marble Giants,
Hasil Adkins,
the Sonics,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Albert Ayler,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Royal Trux,
Ronnie Foster,
Cybotron,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Procol Harum,
The Pop Group,
Alton Ellis,
Porter Ricks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Real Kids,
Boz Scaggs,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Symarip,
New York Dolls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Icehouse,
Masters at Work,
Supertramp,
Organ,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Brass Construction,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dark Day,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
These Immortal Souls,
Skaos,
Colin Newman,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Sherman,
Trumans Water,
Lightning Bolt,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Los Fastidios,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lalann,
Groovy Waters,
Theoretical Girls,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.