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 Burkina and from Lille.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 James White and The Blacks to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall 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 a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joyce Sims,
Fatback Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Eric Dolphy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minutemen,
Echospace,
T. Rex,
Shuggie Otis,
The Doors,
X-102,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Monks,
Cybotron,
Magma,
The Seeds,
Scion,
The Gun Club,
Sun Ra,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ice-T,
Gabor Szabo,
The Martian,
Altered Images,
Arcadia,
The Mojo Men,
Fad Gadget,
Massinfluence,
The Last Poets,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joe Smooth,
Max Romeo,
Warren Ellis,
Nils Olav,
Half Japanese,
Surgeon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Selecter,
Saccharine Trust,
Vainqueur,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Byron Stingily,
Sarah Menescal,
Visage,
Intrusion,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Vladislav Delay,
Peter and Kerry,
Danielle Patucci,
Lower 48,
Subhumans,
Kurtis Blow,
Mr. Review,
Eden Ahbez,
The Fire Engines,
Big Daddy Kane,
Stetsasonic,
Pierre Henry,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.