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 Yemen and from Halifax.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Jakarta.
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 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 Barbara Tucker to the electroclash 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 Danielle Patucci. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 808 and a linndrum 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 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
The Cure,
ABBA,
Roy Ayers,
Eden Ahbez,
Ituana,
Mission of Burma,
Essential Logic,
Rosa Yemen,
The New Christs,
Pantytec,
Grey Daturas,
Magazine,
Unwound,
Quadrant,
Erasure,
PIL,
Roxy Music,
Prince Buster,
Infiniti,
Index,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Vogues,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Sonics,
The Neon Judgement,
Los Fastidios,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sex Pistols,
DJ Style,
The Barracudas,
Gang Green,
Parry Music,
Kenny Larkin,
Sound Behaviour,
the Soft Cell,
Cluster,
Grandmaster Flash,
Radio Birdman,
Juan Atkins,
X-102,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Human League,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pole,
Warren Ellis,
Sandy B,
Donny Hathaway,
Trumans Water,
Absolute Body Control,
The Raincoats,
June Days,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bush Tetras,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Camouflage,
Minor Threat,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.