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 Tunisia and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Neil Young to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
8 Eyed Spy,
Echospace,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Youth Brigade,
Altered Images,
Spoonie Gee,
Gang of Four,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lalann,
Gil Scott Heron,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Brothers Johnson,
Ultra Naté,
The Beau Brummels,
The Real Kids,
48th St. Collective,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ronan,
The Mojo Men,
The Stooges,
The Divine Comedy,
John Holt,
Wolf Eyes,
The Five Americans,
Stetsasonic,
X-101,
Marmalade,
The Fortunes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Con Funk Shun,
Soul II Soul,
Model 500,
Johnny Clarke,
Nik Kershaw,
EPMD,
Heaven 17,
The Young Rascals,
Freddie Wadling,
Stereo Dub,
Metal Thangz,
Porter Ricks,
Alison Limerick,
Girls At Our Best!,
Thee Headcoats,
Alphaville,
Curtis Mayfield,
A Certain Ratio,
Smog,
Jawbox,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Zapp,
Warren Ellis,
Sonic Youth,
Janne Schatter,
David Bowie,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sound Behaviour,
Y Pants,
Laurel Aitken,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.