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 Marshall Islands and from Mumbai.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Fatback Band to the grime 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shuggie Otis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Minor Threat,
New Age Steppers,
Unrelated Segments,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Modern Lovers,
June Days,
Audionom,
OOIOO,
Swell Maps,
Cal Tjader,
Mantronix,
Glenn Branca,
Masters at Work,
Niagra,
Eddi Front,
Young Marble Giants,
Roy Ayers,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Beau Brummels,
The Pop Group,
Arab on Radar,
Ronnie Foster,
Lower 48,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Negative Approach,
Marine Girls,
Joyce Sims,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bush Tetras,
Rites of Spring,
Bad Manners,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Neil Young,
Scratch Acid,
Mandrill,
Grandmaster Flash,
A Certain Ratio,
The Gun Club,
Symarip,
Inner City,
Wolf Eyes,
The Birthday Party,
The Skatalites,
Wire,
Sonic Youth,
Bauhaus,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eric Copeland,
Black Moon,
Cybotron,
ABC,
Country Teasers,
The Fortunes,
Kurtis Blow,
Mary Jane Girls,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pere Ubu,
8 Eyed Spy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.