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 Swaziland and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Michael McDonald 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Goldenarms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
Rekid,
Pere Ubu,
The Last Poets,
The Trojans,
Shoche,
The Misunderstood,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Alphaville,
Kevin Saunderson,
Arab on Radar,
Yellowson,
Crime,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Chrome,
The Durutti Column,
Fad Gadget,
X-102,
The Barracudas,
Lungfish,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eric Copeland,
Eli Mardock,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Blossom Toes,
Los Fastidios,
Silicon Teens,
Erasure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Saints,
DNA,
The Names,
Von Mondo,
Don Cherry,
Blancmange,
The Monochrome Set,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Vainqueur,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
John Holt,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Skriet,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Isaac Hayes,
Crash Course in Science,
Marc Almond,
Scratch Acid,
the Association,
Todd Rundgren,
Oblivians,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Stooges,
Talk Talk,
World's Most,
Harmonia,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Reuben Wilson,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mission of Burma,
Eden Ahbez,
Rotary Connection,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.