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 Albania and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Franke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Surgeon,
The Sound,
Mary Jane Girls,
Spoonie Gee,
Hashim,
Brick,
X-Ray Spex,
Matthew Bourne,
Mark Hollis,
Zapp,
Silicon Teens,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Soft Cell,
Magma,
Stiv Bators,
Ultimate Spinach,
cv313,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rotary Connection,
Soft Cell,
Terrestrial Tones,
kango's stein massive,
Outsiders,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
K-Klass,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lucky Dragons,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barrington Levy,
Depeche Mode,
Tears for Fears,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cybotron,
Ossler,
Harmonia,
Country Joe & The Fish,
KRS-One,
Magazine,
Black Pus,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Hardrive,
Sällskapet,
Aloha Tigers,
The Star Department,
The Gap Band,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Christie,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Deadbeat,
Cymande,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
DJ Style,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Underground Resistance,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bauhaus,
Bob Dylan,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.