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 the UAE and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 grunge 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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Goldenarms,
The Smiths,
Blake Baxter,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ralphi Rosario,
Skriet,
Johnny Clarke,
Kaleidoscope,
Roxette,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Sheep,
Yazoo,
Neu!,
Eric B and Rakim,
Theoretical Girls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soul Sonic Force,
Henry Cow,
Make Up,
Junior Murvin,
The Martian,
The Leaves,
Grauzone,
Eddi Front,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Alison Limerick,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ornette Coleman,
Bang On A Can,
Minny Pops,
KRS-One,
Erasure,
The Doors,
Second Layer,
The Residents,
Lakeside,
Big Daddy Kane,
Silicon Teens,
The Cure,
The Smoke,
Hardrive,
Smog,
Jacob Miller,
Sun Ra,
Tears for Fears,
a-ha,
Nas,
Judy Mowatt,
Pierre Henry,
Magma,
X-101,
The Real Kids,
Neil Young,
Gang Gang Dance,
Camberwell Now,
Tubeway Army,
Albert Ayler,
Sonny Sharrock,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.