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 United Kingdom and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 harpsichord 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 Q65 to the disco 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Mars,
Wally Richardson,
Wolf Eyes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Don Cherry,
Jeff Lynne,
Ronan,
The Five Americans,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Selecter,
The Human League,
R.M.O.,
Soulsonic Force,
Alice Coltrane,
Rod Modell,
Chris Corsano,
L. Decosne,
Severed Heads,
The Smiths,
David McCallum,
Qualms,
Clear Light,
Boredoms,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Warsaw,
The Move,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Dirtbombs,
Electric Prunes,
Iggy Pop,
Aural Exciters,
The Dead C,
Soft Machine,
Scott Walker,
The Cramps,
Goldenarms,
Fear,
The Birthday Party,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Howard Jones,
Janne Schatter,
Ultra Naté,
Minutemen,
Pierre Henry,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Drive Like Jehu,
Grandmaster Flash,
Television Personalities,
Joensuu 1685,
The Slackers,
Joe Finger,
The Divine Comedy,
The Index,
Graham Central Station,
The Evens,
The Fugs,
Angry Samoans,
Blancmange,
DJ Style,
kango's stein massive,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.