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 Dominica and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Spandau Ballet to the rock 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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
The Saints,
Suicide,
Glenn Branca,
Banda Bassotti,
Sugar Minott,
Panda Bear,
Nico,
Shuggie Otis,
Chris Corsano,
Godley & Creme,
Eve St. Jones,
Cluster,
X-Ray Spex,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Absolute Body Control,
Ronnie Foster,
The Cowsills,
Television,
Dave Gahan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
A Certain Ratio,
Lightning Bolt,
Marmalade,
The Gun Club,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Misunderstood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Little Man,
Kurtis Blow,
The Smoke,
the Normal,
Tres Demented,
Heaven 17,
Anthony Braxton,
The Selecter,
Sam Rivers,
Kool Moe Dee,
New York Dolls,
Morten Harket,
The Alarm Clocks,
Roxy Music,
John Lydon,
Talk Talk,
Buzzcocks,
The Names,
Index,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eddi Front,
The Red Krayola,
Glambeats Corp.,
DJ Sneak,
Young Marble Giants,
Ronan,
MDC,
Tommy Roe,
Alphaville,
Black Flag,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs.
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.