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 St Lucia and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 Kool Moe Dee to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
The Remains,
Joensuu 1685,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Arab on Radar,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rekid,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lindisfarne,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
48th St. Collective,
Erasure,
Yaz,
Sonic Youth,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
ABBA,
Blancmange,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Pretty Things,
T.S.O.L.,
New York Dolls,
E-Dancer,
FM Einheit,
Sandy B,
The Litter,
The New Christs,
Ten City,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Scion,
Trumans Water,
Yellowson,
Pierre Henry,
Little Man,
Oneida,
Max Romeo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fire Engines,
Yusef Lateef,
Lou Reed,
KRS-One,
The Saints,
The Gories,
Quadrant,
Ornette Coleman,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Soft Machine,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Glenn Branca,
Talk Talk,
Reagan Youth,
Todd Rundgren,
Supertramp,
10cc,
Traffic Nightmare,
Robert Hood,
Desert Stars,
Davy DMX,
Cluster,
the Human League,
Clear Light,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.